


Will You Call Me James?

by LittleLynn



Category: SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bond is reckless on missions and breaks Q's stuff, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Sex, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Moneypenny is a rock, Q is not amused, Smut, So much smut, sarcastic co-workers with benefits, unexpected feelings happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5144414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond liked to unwind after missions and Q really wasn't about to protest to indecently good, semi-regular sex. </p><p>But as seemed to be the way of the world, the end turned out to be rather different from the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw Spectre and promptly remembered that I am 00Q trash, this longfic is the result.
> 
> Updates should be weekly, when my uni work isn't at a pressure point :)

 

“Have you found Bond yet?” Mallory didn’t bother with a hello or a ‘sorry it’s the middle of the night and you might be sleeping’.

Q knew he was supposed to have off hours but he didn’t seem to ever actually get them.

“Not yet.” Q replied, voice sleepy and trying desperately trying not to sound irate at being woken as it was his boss.

Q yawned and decided he needed food if Mallory was going to want him to do something more complicated than give simple short answers, so he padded into his kitchen and grabbed a bowl of cereal as M bitched about what a problem child Bond was. His cats gave him an evil look for daring to make a noise while they were asleep.

“How did he slip off the radar so easily?” M demanded, and Q couldn’t help but think that it really wasn’t rocket science to figure out how Bond did it.

And rocket science wasn’t even hard anyway.

“He seems to have perfected the art of digging out his tracer.” Q muttered, voice muffled by his mouthful of cereal.

He’d made the mistake of imagining how Bond did that once and decided it was not only irresponsible but also horribly painful and a little gruesome.

Honestly was them keeping tabs on him in the field really enough to getting a knife to dig out your tracker? Apparently so, to Bond at least.

“Well I want him found Q and found fast. And when you’ve located him I want you to start developing a tracker he can’t dig out with a knife.”

“Yes M.” Q answered, adding a silent ‘in the bloody morning’ to himself, wondering why the hell he had phoned about this at three am anyway, he’d probably been in his office and forgotten to look at the clock before calling.

M hung up the phone without another word, throwing his annoyance at Q because Bond wasn’t here, so Q made a mental note to slow down the fixing of that ridiculous old Aston for Bond as payback. That would teach him.

Q yawned again and finished his impromptu midnight snack, tossing the bowl in the sink and deciding that heading back to bed was the best plan he had ever had.

“Q.” Came a voice from his living room and Q most definitely did _not_ shriek like a small child.

The asshole in his living room then laughed at his reaction and Q immediately realised who it was and went from (totally not) scared to pissed off in no time.

“For gods sake Bond get out of my living room. How did you even find my house! Oh I don’t care just piss off I’m going back to bed.” Q’s yell turned into more of a grumble as he continued only for Bond to smirk more and more.    

Q held his head high and marched past Bond, determined to go back to bed and pretend there wasn’t a wayward double-oh agent in his living room for some reason. Really why the _hell_ was he here anyway, the trading of a few well timed quips hardly constituted a friendship.

“I could use a hand.” Bond stated, voice far too amused.

Q clenched his fists and took a deep breath before turning around to face Bond again.

“With what? And honestly 007 I know it’s you turn on the bloody light.” Q replied, his hands might have been on his hips.

Bond then turned on the light and it became apparent what he could ‘use a hand’ with.

“Are you bleeding on my upholstery?” Q tried and failed not to seethe, just because Bond was used to such things didn’t mean the relatively normal people Q sometimes had in here found blood smeared sofa’s normal.

“Not yet.” Bond teased, Q just rolled his eyes.

“Why are you in my flat instead of the infirmary?”

“We’re both off duty Q you can drop the whole Quartermaster routine.” Bond said and it annoyed Q, as if Bond expected Q to be a person he took on rather than his job title.

Then again, that was what Bond did wasn’t it? To a certain extent at least.

“It is not a routine and actually you are not officially off until you report in so I will repeat myself; why are you in my flat instead of the infirmary?”

“I didn’t fancy facing the bollocking Mallory was going to give me.” Bond admitted, and well, at least it was true.

Still didn’t exactly explain why it was Q’s flat specifically he had found himself in.

It then occurred to Q that someone like Bond probably didn’t have that many options, bleeding arm or no. Knowing he was scowling and longingly thinking of his bed Q walked professionally (grumpily stomped) past Bond and into the bathroom, reaching into the cabinet to find the rather extensive first aid kit he kept in there.

Bond was sitting himself down on the closed toilet seat, watching Q as he shuffled around, he could feel the agent’s eyes on him and he tried his best not to squirm under the intense blue eyes.

“How bad is it?” Q demanded, wanting nothing more than to climb back into his bed and knowing he would get there faster by helping Bond rather than trying to kick him out and into headquarters.

“Just a graze really.” Bond said nonchalantly, peeling off his shirt and somehow Q had known he was lying even before he saw it.

“That is disgusting.” Q commented, stoically not looking at the gnarled gash gaping in Bond’s left forearm.

“Q you are going to have to look at it to stitch it up.”

“I am not stitching that up, you can do it yourself.”

“Then I guess I’m going to end up bleeding on the upholstery after all.”

“I am not above calling M and getting you hauled into the infirmary whether you like it or not. In fact I don’t know why I haven’t called him already.” Q threatened, genuinely not knowing why he hadn’t already done just that.

“Because you like me.” Bond grinned, way too smug for his own good.

“You are a pain and lucky you are as good at pointing and shooting as you are or you would have been out of a job a long time ago.” Q groused, getting what he needed to clean Bond’s wound up as best he could, he was far from being any kind of doctor.

“There is a little more. To it than that.” Bond paused in the middle and winced as Q slapped on an alcohol wipe, smiling sweetly at Bond as he did so.

And of course Q was well aware there was more to it than that but he was hardly about to give Bond the satisfaction.

“I hope you know that if you really are intent on me stitching you up it isn’t going to be neat work.” Q pointed out, he barely even wanted to look at the damn thing let alone stitch it up.

“I have complete faith in you.” Bond declared and his tone was teasing and Q had no idea if he was teasing his skills or teasing in other things. He did his best not to care.

“I’m sure the women love the scars.” Q added sarcastically as he sterilised the needle and got ready to start stitching.

“A lot of the men too.” Bond answered and he was definitely teasing now, as if Q didn’t know Bond was quite happy to sleep with a man if it helped his mission just as readily as women, but Q had always wondered if he was just ‘lying back and thinking of England’ for want of a better phrase. Although the look Bond was currently sending Q suggested otherwise, he really was insufferable.

Q just stabbing him with the needle and got to work. The bastard didn’t even flinch.

Despite the fact that it was way too early to be stitching up an agent who couldn’t be bothered to go into the infirmary rather than his Quartermaster’s _supposedly secret_ flat, Q did do his best to make the stitches neat, managing to tamp down the urge to gag while he did so.

“You’re looking father pale.”

“I do not like blood.” Q mumbled, focusing on his work.

“You work for MI6.” Bond responded incredulously.

“In Q-branch. Computers don’t exactly bleed 007.” Q pointed out, pulling another stitch through Bond’s skin and feeling like he needed a cookie. Or five. Bond of course looked as if someone wasn’t currently stitching up his arm without so much as a light painkiller.

“Incredible.” Bond laughed to himself, but he apparently managed to resist the urge to make fun of Q’s suitability for his job for once, probably because Q was currently fixing his arm. “You know, I don’t think I even know your real name.” Bond said, which seemed rather random to Q.

“And you’re not going to.” Q snorted, wrapping the bandage around his arm.

That was his best kept secret, the only person who had known was M and she wasn’t going babbling about his name to anyone when she was alive.

“You can call me James, you know.” Bond added, almost as an afterthought.

“I think not.” Q answered, finding the very idea ludicrous, he was Bond or 007 both in his head and out loud.

James seemed like far too soft a name.

“Why not.” Bond asked as Q stepped back finished with his stitching and grabbing some gauze.

“Feels odd.”

 “It’s because you’re still thinking like the Quartermaster and his operative.”

“Given that I just had to stitch up your arm I feel that Quartermaster and wayward operative is still apt, even if you have invaded my flat this time.” Q countered trying and failing not to sound as bitchy as he felt. “Now can you piss off out my home so I can go back to sleep?”

“Is there any context you would call me James?” Bond asked, completely ignoring Q’s request that he vamoose from his flat.

“No.” Q answered simply, packing away his slightly diminished first aid kit.

“Not getting drinks at the pub?”

“We are never getting drinks at the pub.” Q pointed out, rendering Bond’s pointless point rather irrelevant.

“Not if we were playing a well-mannered game of chess?” Bond asked, grinning a little impishly and Q was getting teased again but too tired to bother to try and work out why.

“Bond is there an aim to this ridiculous enquiry?” Q sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I am tired so if you could get to it that would be lovely.”

“Fine.” Bond began, standing and flexing his arm and for a shining moment Q thought Bond was going to leave him in peace, but then not a moment later he found himself pressed up against the bathroom wall by a tall, muscled body. “What about in this context? Would you call me James?” Bond asked, dropping his voice low and practically murmuring into the skin of Q’s throat.

Now Q would be a liar if he claimed that he had never notice how attractive Bond was – all their double-oh agents were attractive, it seemed to be part of the trade – and he would also be a liar if he claimed that he hadn’t fantasied about this sort of thing more than he probably should have, and he would also be a liar if he claimed that Bond’s proximity and mouth wasn’t having any effect on him.

Fantasy is rather different to reality and unfortunately the reality of this was that this was Bond and Q was not a toy.

“What are you doing Bond?” Q asked, working hard to keep his voice neutral and unaffected.

“I thought that was fairly obvious.” Bond smirked, Q could feel it against his neck.

“You know what I mean.” Q luckily was managing to sound nonchalant still, Bond sighed and pulled back, fixing Q with a frank look.

“I just got back from a mission. I wanted to unwind. I thought you might be amenable.”

“To be honest I’m just shocked you deigned to get your arm fixed before getting laid.” Q remarked only a little sarcastically.

Bond for the first time looked, not unsure exactly, but keen to get the answer (and an answer he apparently couldn’t predict), Q only need to think about it for approximately three seconds.

“You’re gone by the morning.” Q stated, if this was going to be anything it was going to be _extremely_ casual for the sake of both their sanity.

“Of course.” Bond replied, as if Q had actually expected someone like Bond to stick around for breakfast.

“Bedroom is that way.” Q indicated with a nod of his head at the door down a very short corridor.

Q rather expected Bond to drag him in a that-way direction, but what he got instead was a glimpse of a smile and lips kissing his own, nipping at Q to pull him out of his head and remind him that this is the part where he kissed back. Q was quite happy to do so, Bond was a very skilled kisser, something no doubt honed to perfection in the name of England. They kissed for a little while, Bond making it gradually more fiery, pressing his tongue into Q’s mouth and stroking it along Q’s own in a way that was admittedly truly delicious. He had always known Bond would be good at this.

Bond’s lips eventually migrated from his lips and onto Q’s jaw, and q pretended not to be as breathless as he already was, Bond was unfairly good at it. Bond bit lightly at his jaw then his neck, licking and kissing but being very careful not to leave a mark, which was good because Q bruised like a peach, had rather pale skin and a lot of nosey co-workers (bloody spies) and would therefore be sending Bond off on his next mission with an unloaded gun if he did leave a mark.

“You know I really do not require seducing.” Q said, voice strained even to his own ears and not entirely sure why he was saying such a thing when this was so delightful. Bond merely pulled back enough for Q to see him roll his eyes before tucking back into Q’s space.

Bond’s deft fingers went for the hem of Q’s pyjama shirt and rid him of it before he had really realised what was happening.

“It’s cold in here – _oh_.” Q was cut off from his whining at the temperature by a hot mouth back on his neck and rough fingers tweaking at his nipples.

Bond was in fact shirtless already from having his arm stitched up and Q’s hands were beginning to roam over the broad expanse of his back, one hand sliding up the back of his neck and guiding Bond’s lips back to his own, scratching his short nails at the nape of the agent’s neck as they kissed.

It was strange, Q had expected it to be far more rough and frantic than the gentle exploration of Bond’s hands was indicating. One of those hands was still toying with Q’s nipples, causing delightful little sparks to go coursing through him, while the other was stroking down his back, occasionally dipping low to run over his pyjama clad rear.

“I would apologise for the spotted pyjamas but I wasn’t exactly expecting you.” Q commented, aiming for nonchalant but failing as he was panting slightly from Bond’s kisses and touches. 

Either way Bond didn’t exactly seem to mind, dipping his hands underneath the pyjamas and giving Q’s arse a squeeze while he bit and tugged at Q’s lower lip, successfully bringing him away from the wall. His hands moved back over the top of the fabric and almost without warning Bond fixed his large hands on the back of Q’s thighs and hoisted him up, supporting his weight unfairly easily in his two hands.

Q most certainly did not squeak, and even if he did, his contact with the floor had been very suddenly removed, anyone would have made a surprised noise.

Q wrapped his arms around Bond’s neck (for kissing purposes not a result of the squeaking) and allowed Bond to hold onto him and start walking (not that he seemed to have much of a choice).

“This feels a little undignified.” Q commented as Bond carried him towards his bedroom, Bond groaned into his neck.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Only when my mouth is otherwise occupied.” Q mused and Bond seemed to groan in an entirely different manner that time and Q was the one smirking for once.

Bond apparently thought door handles were overrated because he proceeded to kick the door open, and Q was just about to protest about the treatment of his home when he was unceremoniously dumped onto his bed, giving a little bounce on his soft mattress. He was going to complain about being dropped like a rag-doll as well, but the downright hungry look Bond was giving him shut him up.

Instead Q played dirty and turned onto all fours and crawled up the bed and he would never admit to wiggling his arse at Bond, but what he would never admit to seemed to work because suddenly there was a hot chest plastered against his back and a mouth once again kissing at the nape of his neck. One of Bond’s strong arms came around Q’s chest and started tugging on his nipples and Q most certainly did not whine in any way shape or form, but that time he would admit to grinding his arse back against Bond’s rather interested crotch.

“ _Oh_.” Q chocked off softly as Bond rolled his hips forward to meet him, because it wasn’t like he expected Bond to be small, but that, _that_ , was pretty impressive even given his expectations.

Q could practically hear Bond’s smirk as he rubbed himself back with a little more fervour, his want growing as Bond continued to tease at his ear and neck and his hand continued toying with his nipple. Then the hand that wasn’t holding him abandoned Q’s nipple and started sliding down his chest and stomach, teasing at the waistband of his polka-dot pyjamas.

Really he probably should have expected Bond to be a goddamn tease.

He was in fact just about to complain again but then there was a large gun-calloused hand rubbing at his cock through his pyjamas – he was really beginning to hate these pyjamas – and his words died on his lips. He could hear the bastard laugh as Q made a quiet little moan and bucked into his hand, Bond continued to stroke him through the fabric of his pyjamas, pyjamas that Q wanted off right now, and it really wasn’t long before Q was making embarrassing pleading noises as he rocked into Bond’s hand and tipped his head to the side to give Bond’s hungry mouth better access to his neck.

“I don’t suppose you have anything?” Bond’s voice was a rumble in his ear that seemed to make his whole spine tingle and it was a stupid question of course Q had something this was his house.

“Bedside table. Lube and condoms.” Q was most certainly not panting, that would be embarrassing.

And there was no way they were doing this without protection, Q had the misfortune of actually knowing where Bond had been.

Bond pressed a kiss to the back of his neck and reached over to the drawer, rooting around in there before finding what they needed and dropping it back on the bed next to them.

Finally Bond’s hands were on his hips and sliding his pyjamas down, although he was taking his sweet time about it, lifting Q’s knees up one at a time and pulling them off entirely before discarding them onto the floor. Bond was then plastered along his back again, suit trousers feeling delicious against the backs of his thighs and his arse but still wanting nothing more than for Bond to get rid of them as well.

Q heard the click of the cap on his lube and felt a cool, slick finger rubbing at his entrance, then there were teeth on his shoulder and Bond was pressing his finger in in one smooth motion. Q would admit that that time he did moan a little, dropping his head and pushing himself back on Bond’s finger and wanting more, so of course Bond just continued to tease and Q was seriously regretting his position because he couldn’t easily reach for his aching cock that was being completely ignored by Bond now.

“Hurry up.” Q groaned as Bond continued to work him open on just one finger, Q was also convinced that the asshole was deliberately missing his sweet spot every time.

“So impatient.” Bond teased and Q’s retort got cut off by the second finger finally sliding inside him, stretching him slowly.

Bond was biting at his earlobe as he scissored his fingers inside of Q, opening him up and adding a third, successfully making Q moan at the stretch, rolling his hips back to meet Bond on every twist and push of his fingers. Bond started to work him faster until he was essentially fucking Q on his thick fingers and then he finally, _finally_ , brushed directly over that bundle of nerves, making Q’s back arch and him cry out.

So of course the git chose that moment to remove his fingers entirely.

Q absolutely did not whimper.

“Bond.” Q growled, letting him know that he was _not_ amused, but of course Bond still laughed.

Q heard Bond ridding himself of his trousers and underwear and looked over his shoulder to catch sight of the agent in all of his naked glory (and what glory it was, people shouldn’t be allowed to look like _that_ ). The right amount of muscle, those blue eyes, firm thighs, his large and hard cock. It just wasn’t fair.

He was also absolutely riddled with scars, but now hardly seemed like the time to bring that up.

Bond was rolling a condom down his hard length and Q expected him to be plastering himself along Q’s back again and pushing in, instead Q found himself getting flipped over by strong hands so that  he was lying on his back and looking up at Bond who had a completely lecherous look on his face. Q took the moment to straighten his glasses out on his face so he could detail the many virtues of Bond’s body a little better. Bond smiled at him like he was cute before going back to that mischievous, hungry expression.

“Tell me Quartermaster. How flexible are you?” Bond asked, stroking a hand down the back of one of Q’s thighs.

“Very.” Q smirked.

Q’s interest in yoga was purely because it was good for your health and had absolutely nothing to do with his sex life. Absolutely nothing.

“Excellent.” Bond smirked right back and then he was hooking Q’s legs over his shoulders and the head of his cock was finally pressing against Q’s stretched entrance.

“Oh for god sake Bond get on with – _ah_.” Q ended in a moan as Bond answered his griping by sinking them flush together in one brutal thrust of his hips.

“Alright?” Bond checked, and for some reason, Q had never thought of him as the kind of lover to check, he wasn’t sure why.

“Not if you don’t blood well start moving.” Q said through gritted teeth, feeling his control leaving him as Bond gave him a truly wolfish look.

Bond wasted no times after that, setting up a brutal pace than was forcing the bed to bang against the wall in no time and Q had thought that was something that only happened in movies, clearly he hadn’t been having sex with the right people. His glasses were already fogged up and skewed at a funny angle on his face as Bond fucked him hard, there were rough hands on the back of his thighs and Bond was pressing them down and basically bending Q in half and that made the angle absolutely _perfect_ and Q knew he was babbling and moaning loudly but he really didn’t care because this wasn’t just sex this was like, _gourmet_ sex.

Bond’s cock was hitting his prostate every time and Q was pretty sure he wasn’t going to need a hand around his own cock at this rate and Bond’s mouth on his collarbone was adding another layer of sensation and he was panting heavily against Q’s skin and it was all just delicious really. Q could feel himself getting close, Bond driving him towards the edge easily after he’d taken his time about everything beforehand and then there were lips against his own and kissing him messily and somehow Q hadn’t expected it, but it was glorious all the same.

“I’m, I’m close.” Q panted out against Bond’s lips as his hips somehow kept up their hard and fast rhythm, the obscene sound of skin against skin filling the room and Q’s neighbours would definitely be able to hear the bed knocking against the wall and yet Q really did not care because he could feel his orgasm beginning to crest, getting ready to crash over him.

But Bond was a bastard so of course he chose that moment to suddenly still his movements, making Q cry out in frustration and having to resist the urge to punch Bond in the nose.

“Will you call me James?” Bond asked, smug look on his lips.

“No.” He grit out, glaring at the agent on top of him, he half expected Bond to hold his orgasm hostage until he complied, but instead he just laughed and looked at Q like he was some unique kind of challenge.

Q would stop to contemplate that more if it weren’t for the fact that Bond was back to fucking him in earnest, hitting that perfect little spot inside him unerringly on every thrust of his powerful hips. Q wrapped his arms around Bond’s back and raked his nails over the skin there, hardly keeping up with the pace of Bond’s fucking and just letting himself be dragged (or indeed fucked) along for the ride (and what a ride it was).

He was completely unprepared for the hand that let go of his thigh to wrap around Q’s cock, stripping it fast and in time with his hips and really there was only so much that Q could take, and the new onslaught of extra sensation was apparently more than enough, Q’s climax crashing around him so suddenly he was surprised he didn’t black out really.

“Bond.” Q gasped out, descending into a loud moan as he spilled between them, covering his own chest and Bond’s hand in his release.

Bond fucked him right through it, wringing out his orgasm and leaving him with aftershocks that had him shaking with over sensitivity. But Q could tell that Bond was close, his hips gone erratic and his mouth panting into Q’s shoulder, so with what energy he could dredge up Q squeezed down as tightly as he could around Bond, scratching his nails down Bond’s chest and that seemed to do the trick.

“Q.” Bond somehow managed to choke off the single letter as his climax washed over him, filling the condom, Q rolling his hips to milk the orgasm from him as much as his exhausted body could.

Bond then proceeded to collapse on top of Q which left something to be desired given how heavy Bond was. Q let him lie there for a while simply because he was too tired and sated and come-dumb to bother speaking let alone moving, but eventually the post-coital haze started to clear and Q straightened out his glasses.

“Please move you great oaf.” Q said, voice tired and shoving at Bond’s shoulder, who, to his credit, did roll off him.

Q was psyching himself up to actually move, but then quite unexpectedly Bond got up and padded out the room and he really did have a wonderful arse, Q couldn’t help but admire it. Bond came back with a wet flannel presumably procured from the bathroom and set about cleaning Q up, and he would complain but he was tired at it was nice and yet another thing he hadn’t expected Bond to do after a casual fuck.

Clearly he had not been giving Bond enough credit, at least now Q completely understood why so many women threw themselves at Bond, he certainly would not be against it happening again, how could be against sex that good really, he’d have to be out of his mind.

“Do you know my main issue with calling you Q in this context?” Bond said, tossing the cloth away and dropping back down on the bed.

“I am sure you are going to tell me regardless of my answer.” Q sighed sleepily, back to his previous state of wanting nothing more than some uninterrupted sleep.

“You’re not the first Q I’ve known.”

“Sincerest apologies if I failed to keep your mind off of old men while we had sex.” Q answered, voice dripping with sarcasm, that really was a terrible attempt to get Q’s name, he knew full well Bond’s attention had not wandered. “You’re going to have to try harder if you want my name Bond.”

“Call me James.”

“No.”

“We’re in bed together.”

“That can be solved.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Piss off Bond.”

“Are you kicking me out of bed?” Bond asked, voice brimming with laughter.

“Certainly looks that way doesn’t it.” Q griped, snuggling down further in the sheets.

“I’ll worry you didn’t enjoy yourself.” Bond teased, both knowing full well he clearly had very much so.

“Thank you very much for the fantastic sex, I am certainly not adverse to it happening again sometime. Now please fuck off because I am tired and you need to report in. Better?” Q stated, sarcastic and blunt and making Bond laugh.

“Infinitely.” Bond said, Q could hear the smile in his voice just as he heard him quietly finding his clothes.

Q was asleep before he heard the front door shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Feel free to come say hello on [tumbles](http://thrandythefabulous.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for slipping off the face of the earth :') I was drowning in uni work and having a low key breakdown - but I'm good again now! Yay! And you can expect more regular updates from me from now on <3 Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

 

Q was, unsurprisingly, in an exceptionally good mood the next morning.

Usually he was very decidedly not a morning person, and when his alarm first started blaring in his ear and dragged him from a particularly good dream he felt the same distaste for the loathsome time of six thirty am as he always did. But then Q stretched out in his bed and the delicious ache he felt reminded him that not all of last night had in fact been a dream, and that left him in a rather good mood.

Q eventually stopped luxuriating and playing parts of last night back in his head and got out of bed, grabbing his glasses and pulling on some clothes for the day before padding out of his bedroom. Within seconds Q’s two cats were meowing and slinking around his legs in a less than subtle instruction for Q to feed them. He pet them both gently as they munched on the kibble he had put in their bowl and then turned to his own food, finding himself remarkably hungry, which actually probably wasn’t so remarkable given last night’s exertions.

Q did himself a couple of pieces of toast and jam and realised he was grinning to himself, no doubt a reflection on his mood. Really getting thoroughly and excellently sexed did wonders for ones disposition.

Finishing his toast and not even caring about the fact he was running a little late already Q disappeared into the bathroom. He figured he could always point out to M that he had woken him up for work in the middle of the night if he did decide to take issue with him being a half hour late. He was in too good a mood to allow M to ruin it because he was a bit late.

Even noticing the blood on the upholstery of his sofa couldn’t sully his good mood, though it did earn a brief scowl and some grumbling about a certain double-oh agent with an indecently good chest.

Soon enough he was ready to go, bidding the cats a good day and grabbing his laptop as he disappeared out the front door.

Upon gaining the position of Quartermaster at MI6 Q had been offered a driver and a car to ferry him around, but Q had promptly rejected it as the whole idea of him having a chauffeur was entirely ridiculous in every way. Instead he made the difficult decision between tube and bike each morning, opting for the tube this time round because bikes weren’t known for their comfort at the best of times, let alone after certain nocturnal activities just hours beforehand.

Q was rather fond of the little underground bunker they had been unceremoniously forced into during Silva’s attacks, and he was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one, no one seemed particularly keen for the new building that was being built. There was something so wonderfully old-school about being spies that quite literally worked underground.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you got laid last night.” Moneypenny commented, falling into step beside him shortly after he came in, heading down to the technology development wing of Q branch.

“What makes you think you know better?” Q asked, doing his best to not give anything away with his voice, really it was a good thing he was never expected to actually go on missions.

“Because I know you broke up with – what was his name, Matt? Mark? – last week, _and_ you were constantly moaning that he was terrible in bed anyway.” She commented, perching on his work bench as Q sat down.

“Then I guess you must be right.” Q mumbled, booting up his computer (which was actually about seven computers all fitted into one station), Moneypenny punched him in the arm. “Ouch.”

“That did not hurt.” Moneypenny snorted even as Q glared at here and rubbed his arms, sometimes he forgot she had been a field agent. “Anyway, spill.”

“Spill what? I thought you had decided I couldn’t have possible gotten laid last night.” Q countered, not really sure why he was bothering trying to deny it, she always got it out of him in the end.

“You’re in way too good a mood this morning and there is only one reason you are ever in a good mood in the mornings. Actually I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen you in this good a mood before noon.”

Q looked up at his friend from where he sat and wondered if she would even believe him if he did tell her exactly who had managed to put him in such a spectacularly good mood this morning. She met his eyes with a nosy determination that he loved.

“Bond.” Q said, waiting for whatever her reaction as going to be.

“What about him?” Moneypenny asked, looking confused, Q raised an eyebrow and waited for it to dawn on her, which it eventually did, mouth opening into an almost comical ‘o’ with shock. “Oh my god. You had better not be having me on.”

“I am perfectly serious.” Q answered, flicking through a couple of files so that it perhaps looked like he was possibly working instead of having a gossip, even though they were clearly having a gossip.

“I’m not sure whether to be impressed or get you a brain scan. Though I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Why would I need a – wait in what way was any of this inevitable?” Q asked, rankling at the idea anyone else was at all privy to any fantasies he might have entertained about 007 on occasion (and honestly who hadn’t had the odd fantasy about him, anyone in the office who claimed not to was a liar as far as Q was concerned).

“In fact I think Tanner was talking about starting a betting pool.” Moneypenny then decided to tease him and Q gave her his best glare.

“I don’t want this becoming common knowledge. I am not the subject of office gossip.” Q grumbled, even though he knew that he didn’t need to say, not to Moneypenny at least. 

“I know I know. I have to ask though…”

“What?” Q sighed, even though he was fairly sure he didn’t need his pretty sensational IQ to know exactly what she was about to ask.

“How was he?”

“Don’t be so childish.” Q muttered, but he really couldn’t help the self-satisfied grin that was tugging at his lips.

“Q.” Moneypenny did not whine, mainly because she was above such things, but she did sternly admonish.

“Fine. He was sensational. I actually hadn’t expected him to be so generous in bed.” Q told her, which she looked delighted to hear.

“Details.” She demanded.

“Not bloody likely.” Q snorted, pushing his glasses back up his nose from where they had slipped a little.

“Is it going to happen again?” She asked with a gleeful look in her eyes and Q shrugged.

“Maybe. Who knows.” Q replied, and it wasn’t even feigned nonchalance, he was all in favour of it happening again, but he was hardly chasing after Bond like a drooling puppy, he’d leave that to whoever his current conquest was.

Q was casual not a conquest, he didn’t feel like he had been conquered anyway.

“I’m guessing he isn’t the kind to stay the night.”

“Wouldn’t know.” Q muttered, leaning in to scrutinise a troublesome email more closely.

“How can you not know that, you did spend the night with him?”

“Hmm? Oh, no I kicked him out right after.” Q told her which lead to such a loud burst of laughter from Eve that everyone else in the room turned to look at them. “Was that entirely necessary?” Q asked when she had recovered herself.

“Have I told you recently that I love you? Because I do, I really do.” She grinned at him and Q couldn’t help but share in it, he supposed it did sound pretty funny in hindsight. “Do you know how many people he’s left heartbroken by _not_ being there in the morning, and you just kick him out.”

“The difference being I know Bond well enough to be aware that falling for him would probably be the worst idea in the history of the world.” Q pointed out.

“You really think you can control your feelings?”

“No. I think feelings have nothing to do with it at all.”

“So it’s just sex?”

“Obviously. What, did you think we were having some Bronte-esque romance?” Q snorted again, the whole concept of he and Bond having a _romance_ was utterly ludicrous.

Moneypenny looked like she had far more to say but Mallory had appeared at the door to he tech branch and had started glaring at them through the glass, so Moneypenny sighed, standing up from her perch on the desk and preparing to go and actually get on with her job.

“We _are_ going to the pub later and you _are_ going to give me the details.” She informed him with a dangerous smile which meant she was probably going to get what she wanted, she usually did.

And with that she disappeared, falling into step behind their new M and doing a wonderful job at looking interested in whatever it was he was saying. Not thirty seconds later Q got a brief email from M reminding him to get started on new tracker tech for particularly troublesome agents.

Q managed almost a full hour of uninterrupted work, and even if he did say so himself, he was making excellent progress and had started hashing out a way of getting the tracer into his blood rather than his arm. When he was inevitably interrupted from his work, because he always seemed to be, it was by none other than the reason he was having to invent such an elaborate tracer.

Bond came in with his usual swagger, leaning languidly against the doorframe and rather distractingly watching Q as he got on with his work.

“I hear our Quartermaster appears to be in a very good mood this morning.” Bond smirked, horribly smug.

“That has the potential to evaporate quickly if you insist on distracting me.” Q murmured as he focused in, squinting at what he was doing.

“You didn’t mind me distracting you last night.” Bond felt the need to point out, and this time Q did look up to make it easier to scowl at the agent.

“Ever bring it up at work and it won’t be happening again I promise.” Q warned him, he had no intention of becoming some kind of terrible cliché in the office.

“There are other places I could go.” Bond rankled a little, Q couldn’t help but wonder why.

“And yet you ended up at my flat last night, not elsewhere. And like I said last night, I am quite happy for you to end up there again, but the moment what happens in my flat carries over into the office that’s it.” Q told him plainly, figuring that was probably the easiest way to stop this from getting messy.

“So you don’t have any lingering fantasies involving your desk?” Bond teased, hands in his suit pockets, his posture relaxed.

“I have a desk at home.” Q shrugged and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little proud of the way Bond’s lips quirked up in interest at the implication.

Bond didn’t say anything, which Q took to mean he had taken his point about sex being well and truly separate from the office seriously and he was grateful. Q actually started to find Bond’s presence less obtrusive than he had at first and it wasn’t long before he found himself hunkering back down into his work while Bond wandered curiously around the tech development room. But of course Bond was a little like a child in a toy shop in this room and it wasn’t long before Q was pulled from his thoughts again.

“What’s this?” Bond asked, eyes lighting up gleefully as he picked up one of Q’s many inventions.

“Dangerous.” Q said sounding strangely like a teacher warning a student not to do something again as he took it off Bond and returned it to its stand.

“Q, I’m a double-oh agent.”

“And does that somehow mean you magically know how to use something I just invented.” Q asked sarcastically with a raised eyebrow and for once, Bond struggled for a clever retort. “I thought not. Don’t touch it.”

“Or, you could show me how it works.” Bond suggested, voice set just slightly too low, Q slapped his hand away from the elaborate new automatic gun and returned to one of his workbenches.

“Can’t. Busy. And I wouldn’t anyway.”

“Why not?”

“It’s for double-oh two, _she_ can actually be trusted to bring most things back in one piece.” Q added, words pointed, but it only served to make Bond laugh, Q resisted giving him a berating about returning the tech but decided it really was not worth the breath.

“What are you working on?” Bond asked after a little while and Q really could not tell if he was genuinely interested or just had no one better to distract from work.

“A tracer you won’t find it so easy to dig out with a knife.” Q muttered, concentrating on the micro-technology in front of him instead of the attractive agent wandering around the room.

“You underestimate my determination.” Bond smiled impishly at him and Q resisted the urge to explain that Bond was practically have to bleed out entirely to get rid of this one, but decided it would be easier to get the damn thing into him in the first place if he wasn’t expecting it.

“I will not be stitching up any wounds inflicted trying to remove your tracer.” Q said instead.

“Oh but you did such a good job last night. The infirmary was impressed.”

“I hope you left my name out of it.”

“Of course I did Q, as I don’t even know your real name.” Bond raised an eyebrow, folding his arms and leaning back against the work bench he was perched on.

“How is your arm?” Q asked, completely ignoring Bond’s remark about his name, genuinely worried he might have done a botched job last night, or indeed made it worse from their other activities.

“Good as new.” Bond smiled, which was clearly a lie because he hadn’t miraculously healed completely overnight, then again, given the amount of running and fighting Bond usually dragged himself through while covered in wounds, maybe he did feel good as new to his skewed sense of the phrase.

“You owe me a new sofa.” Q commented idly, finding it surprisingly easy to talk to Bond even while he worked.

“On what grounds?” Bond asked, amused, he was smiling that smile at Q again, like he was a rubix-cube he was having particular fun trying to work out.

“You did bleed on my upholstery.” Q informed him, it made Bond laugh, shaking his head slightly at Q.

Bond wandered away a little after that, Q didn’t even notice him go, managing to get himself so thoroughly buried in his new project, he just looked up and Bond was gone. He wasn’t disappointed exactly, but he did enjoy the agent’s company far more than was probably advisable. There was an easy rapport that seemed to have existed between them from the moment Q sat down on the bench beside him in the art gallery. Q recalled that exchange fondly, digging through records he shouldn’t have had access to he had managed to discover when Bond’s birthday was and was building an exploding pen for the occasion. He had a feeling it would amuse Bond, he had always liked the old madcap gadgets.

Q worked through the day and didn’t see another glimpse of Bond, eventually being dragged away from his work by Moneypenny and her earlier promise (or indeed threat) to take him out for drinks after work. Q had made the mistake of trying to match her drink for drink once before. That was a mistake he certainly wasn’t going to be making twice.

“So, how did it actually happen? Were you arguing and he finally just kissed you?” Moneypenny asked, sipping at whatever drink she had just ordered for them both.

“He wanted to unwind after the mission, probably just didn’t fancy picking up a stranger and having to explain his bleeding arm or scar-ridden torso.” Q shrugged, before wrinkling up his nose and adding. “He made me stitch up his arm.”

“That is remarkably underwhelming.” Moneypenny commented, and Q supposed the prelude had been rather incredibly un-sexy, but given how good the actual sex had been he wasn’t about to start complaining about that.

“I’m sorry would you prefer sweeping vistas and clandestine meetings?” Q snorted, taking a sip of the drinks Eve had bought them and managing not to cough as it burned down his throat, he glared at her and she smiled sweetly.

“You could have embellished it a little for my benefit.” She said and Q laughed at his friend, glad there was someone he could talk to about pretty much anything. “Anyway, I believe I said something about details.”

“I refuse to believe you’ve never had the chance to find out for yourself.” Q raised an eyebrow, he had never been sure if they had or hadn’t when they were working together at the Macau Casino, and before now, he had never wondered enough to ask.

“Ladies that encounter Bond on missions tend to end up in a bad way.” Moneypenny said a little sombrely, it was something that wasn’t really talked about around the office, proof that despite what people might joke, they all knew that Bond did have a heart and it was far from indestructible. “Besides.” She continued in a far lighter tone. “I’d rather keep him as a fantasy, I imagine it is better than the reality.”

“It’s not.” Q assured her, taking a sip from his drink while she grinned at him.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Best sex of my life.” And it certainly didn’t hurt that Q was fairly sure he was going to be able to have it again at some point.

“I always thought he’d be the kind to leave marks.” Moneypenny mused, touching her neck to indicate Q’s unmarred skin.

“I am sure he was well aware I would be sending him off with an unloaded gun if he dared.” Q said and that had her laughing again, loud and melodic enough to draw the eye of a lot of the men in the pub, but then she had a habit of doing that anyway. Q thought it was something all of the field agents (or indeed ex-field agents had), some unexplainable _something_ that just drew people towards them.

“I think you two are going to be very very good for each other.” She smiled, shaking her head gently down at her drink before throwing it back with a smile and signalling the bartender for another, which he delivered promptly and with a phone number on the napkin.

Their conversation drifted on to other things, the little things in their lives that kept them both firmly grounded in reality. Moneypenny finally told him about the guy she was on and off seeing, she was unsure about anything more serious because of all the secrets they were legally obligated to keep, in the end that had been what had killed off Q’s relationship with Matt in the end, although the terrible sex has meant he certainly hadn’t been sad to see it go.

They talked about that for a while, whether if they ever wanted to be in a serious relationship they would have to marry someone in the same line of work just to spare all the secrets, not to mention the general danger being as closely associated with the secret service brought with it. Q joked that they should get married, Moneypenny joked that Q should marry Bond, apparently they bickered like an old married couple anyway.

It was a weird thought, marrying 007, the thought of anyone marrying 007 was a weird one. Q wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it, wasn’t actually entirely sure how he felt about the whole marriage idea in general to be honest. He could never see himself doing it, just seemed like extra paperwork.

Admittedly Matt’s accusations that he was the least romantic person on the planet was an exaggeration that was probably grounded in some fact.

It wasn’t that Q hated the idea of romance – although the idea of romance with _Matt_ had never really tickled him if he was being honest – it was just he had never really come across anyone that he wanted to do the whole candlelit dinners and soppy hand-holding with. Q’s version of romance was far more lazy mornings in bed and not having to tell the other person they both needed to clean their teeth before kisses would be shared in the morning because they just _knew_. According to Matt, refusing morning kisses because of bad breath was rude and unromantic. Q just thought that gross morning breath kisses were rude.

It had probably never been going to work out with Matt.

Bond felt like exactly what Q needed right now. No strings attached, no worry, no upkeep, no stress. Just some simple, casual frustration relief that they could both enjoy without having to worry about the awkward morning after, because Q knew he could kick Bond out of bed without needing to worry about hurting his feelings. Q hated sharing his bed, it made it too hot with too little room. God forbid anyone should ever try to ‘spoon’ him, he had yet to see the appeal to that particular practice in the slightest.

He was looking forward to repeating the experience with Bond with no need to worry about spooning or morning after etiquette.

The conversation shifted onto Q’s cats, who were giant traitors and always fawned over Eve whenever she came over, ignoring him entirely until the only other person on the planet that they liked had left. At least if anything did happen to him he would know they had a home. Which was a rather morbid thought. Q decided it was best to stop the alcohol for the night with that.

Eventually they both agreed that it was probably time to head home, and Q was not drunk, moderately tipsy perhaps, but he still noticed Moneypenny subtly walking him home through the streets of London. She worried far too much, but Q appreciated the sentiment and decided it was probably easier not to fight it because there was no way he was going to be winning that particular debate anyway.

“I will see you tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t between now and then.” She teased.

“You wouldn’t do Bond.” Q pointed out with a sloppy grin.

“Well if he is sat up in your flat waiting for you then I give you my blessing.” She laughed and Q was suddenly struck with the idea that Bond could in fact be waiting for him up in his flat.

“You’re too good to me.” Q blew her a kiss and headed inside, not missing Eve’s eye roll before doing so.

Q had never hated the steps up to his flat more in his life, he could swear they had gotten steeper than yesterday (or more likely he was just more tired than he had been yesterday). The lift had been out of order for almost a year and Q had given up trying to get their shit of a landlord to actually fix it. Maybe he could convince one of the maintenance people from work to come and fix it and claiming his building lift was somehow included in their list of things to keep running smoothly.  

Eventually and embarrassingly out of breath Q made it to the fifth floor and unlocked the door to his flat, only fumbling the keys twice.

He couldn’t help his laughter when he flicked the light on his flat to find that sat in the middle of it was a brand new sofa with a ridiculous red bow on it.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise for how long this has taken to update, the need to do well in my degree suddenly hit me full force :') However, I now have my degree in hand so it shouldn't happen again!
> 
> So sorry for the wait, updates should be regular from now on, and I hope you enjoy <3

 

 

Q was utterly lost in the new code he was writing, hands flying over the keys in an elaborate dance that they knew the steps to impeccably (and honestly it was the only dance Q would ever be able to master; he had a remarkable mind and two left feet). He had completely lost track of everything that was not his work, he had no idea if it was night or day, when he had last eaten, if anyone else was even in the office anymore. Though he would guess Eve wasn’t, or she’d have reminded him to eat by now.

Q was blind, deaf and dumb to the world around him and just about to make a breakthrough, he could feel it right at the tips of his fingers as the new lines of code appeared on the screen, so he did not notice the double-oh agent that had snuck into the room.

In his defence, Bond had a lot of practice at being stealthy. Though he could also be a bit of a blunt instrument at times.

So needless to say Q was not expecting a voice to suddenly murmur in his ear; “How do you like the new sofa?”

Q did not yelp, though he did jump and an argument could be made that he squeaked. Bond chuckled anyway, because he was a bastard.

“Bond! I was about to have a breakthrough.” Q yelled, slightly embarrassed by the fact that his heart was still racing just by being crept up upon.

“How long have you even been down here?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What’s the time?” Q asked, eyes flicking to his watch and answering his own question. “Oh it’s the middle of the night. A while.” Q then answered, the realisation prompting the awareness of how hungry he was as if on cue.

“We really should get you and room with some windows.” Bond laughed, shaking his head as if he was fond.

“We’re in an underground bunker Bond. No one has any windows.”

“An alarm clock then.” Bond grinned, Q rolled his eyes and attempted to go back to his coding, still slightly rankled at losing his flow.

“Why’re you here Bond?” Q asked, wondering what in the world he could be after to warrant being in the office at half three in the morning.

“Well, first I looked at your flat, and when I couldn’t find you there I called Moneypenny to find out where you were, she promptly told me in very colour terms not to ever phone her at three am again unless it was work related, to which I told her technically you _were_ work related and she promptly hung up the phone, only to call me back thirty seconds later and say you were probably still here and had completely lost track of time.” Bond seemed highly amused by this story.

“Amazing. That excessive play-by-play and you still failed to answer my question.” Q deadpanned, Bond laughed again, Q was pretty sure no one had ever found him this amusing before.

“Clearly I was looking for you. I don’t just wander into you house and Q-Branch for the fun of it.”

“No, only to occasionally pilfer equipment that isn’t yours.” Q grumbled, Bond was still smiling at him, it would be a little unnerving if it didn’t seem so genuine. “Why were you trying to find me?”

“I had been hoping we might break in your new sofa.”

“At three am?” Q asked incredulously, wondering if it was a mistake to have told Bond he wouldn’t mind more casual sex between them if three am was his idea of an appropriate time to drop round.

“I just got informed I’m leaving for a mission in the morning, who knows when I might be back.” Or _if_ he would be back, Q thought, but that was far too morbid for his and Bond’s relationship, so he pushed it to the very back of his mind.

He vaguely remembered a discussion that morning with M about who would be deployed to Budapest, but he thought they had agreed on double-oh-four. Q picked up his phone and before no less than seven missed calls from Bond, there was indeed a message from Eve telling him the operative had been changed to Bond. It felt like he had only just gotten back.

“So you came to find me at my flat, fine. But why not give up when I wasn’t home – and I hope you didn’t annoy my cats when you undoubtedly broke in instead of ringing the bell by the way – I am hardly likely to fancy a quickie on the new sofa when I’m not even at home.”

“Who said anything about it being quick.” Bond turned that lecherous smirk on him and Q would be a liar if he claimed it had no effect.

“Your prowess notwithstanding, that still doesn’t explain why you came all this way.” Q was genuinely curious at this point, Bond shrugged and maintained his smirk.

“I believe I mentioned something about a desk once.”

“And I believe I mentioned something about never bringing it up at work if you ever wanted it to happen again.”

“There is no one else here.”

“Bond this is MI6, there is always someone here.”

“Yes but they’re very unlikely to come wandering into Q-Branch, I’ll even barricade the doors if it’ll make you feel better.” Bond was grinning, why did he always seem to be doing that.

“Bond!” Q rubbed his forehead in exasperation.

“Attempted bootycall aside, I can give a lift home if you like. Saves you getting the tube this late.” Bond sounded almost concerned, it threw Q a little.

“I probably won’t bother going home. I have to be back here in four hours as is.” Q sighed, he kept a sofa in the little office that was technically his but he never used, preferring to be out in Q-Breach proper when he was working. “I appreciate the offer though. And you should get some rest before you’re sent out.”

“Yeah. See you in a few hours Q.” Bond turned to leave the room, calling back when he reached the door, “and Q, if you change your mind about the whole desk thing, let me know.”

“It’s the in work thing that I have a problem with, not the desk.” Q shot back.

“I will hold you to that.”

“Literally I hope.”

“You can count on it.” Bond winked and was then out the door, leaving Q with a smile on his face.

It was only then that he noticed the drink and sandwich Bond had managed to leave on his desk unnoticed. His stomach growled its approval at the same time his chest felt uncomfortably warm.

Eve must have told him to bring it.

 

Bond was sent off late that morning with much grumbling about the lack of ‘fun’ gadgets that he used to get, Q pointed out that they weren’t really gadgets at all, they were highly expensive pieces of tech. It was only supposed to be a short and relatively simple mission, though given that they worked in the world of espionage it just meant Bond should be shot at less than usual.

As Bond climbed into his Aston looking like some kind of old school movie star in his finely pressed suit and sunglasses and turned to Q with a raised eyebrow.

“Here to bid me farewell?” He teased.

“More like to wave goodbye to the tracker, gun and radio because this is probably the last time I’ll ever see them.” Q snarked back.

“I promise I will do my best to bring everything back without a scratch.” Bond replied in mock-solemnity with a hand on his heart.

“Including yourself I hope.”

“Q I didn’t know you cared.” This time it was with a gasp and batting his eyelashes, the man really could be ridiculous at times.

“Perhaps I simply don’t care to stitch you up again.” Q retorted, before handing over the ring he had invented.

“Are you proposing to me Q?” Bond grinned, Q rolled his eyes.

“It’s a signet ring Bond, obviously.” Q grumped, well he tried to grump, in reality he always found Bond amusing, in an infuriating kind of way.

“What does it do?” Bond asked, already slipping it on to his little finger. Not that any of his fingers were particularly little. And Q would know.

“Squeeze the sides, hard.” Q instructed, Bond did so and a little needle appeared out of the top.

“Very strong sedative. Try not to stab yourself.”

“I’ll do my best. Take care of yourself Q.” Bond said as Q shut his car door, as if Q was the one going somewhere dangerous and not Bond. Of course he could just be hoping Q would remember to do things like eat, he still needed to thank Moneypenny for getting Bond to bring him a sandwich.

“Don’t die.” Q responded dryly, watching as Bond drove off with a that laugh of his.

When he turned around to go back to Q-Branch he found Moneypenny looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t realise we were sending Bond off with anything other than the standard tech.” She commented as they fell into step together.

Q shrugged, “Bond likes the old school gadgets.”

“Double-oh-three also likes them. Will he be getting one?” Eve asked, somewhere between pointedly and teasing, Q scowled.

“Maybe.” He muttered, knowing full well he wouldn’t be.

“Besides, what Bond really wants is an exploding pen, we all know that.”

“Well he isn’t getting that until his birthday.” Q said, Moneypenny stopped in her tracks and gave him an incredulous look.

“You’ve build him an exploding pen for his birthday?”

“Well, it’s currently under construction, but yes, why?” Q asked, wondering why Eve was so confused by this concept.

“No reason.” She finally said with a shake of her head, though Q knew she wasn’t saying something, and was about to (try and probably fail to) needle it out of her, but she changed the subject first.

“Did Bond find you last night?”

“Yes, scared me half to death by materialising next to me.” Q answered, Eve snorted, clearly not surprised. “Thank you, by the way.” He added, knocking her shoulder with his own.

“You’re welcome. But what for?” She queried.

“For telling him to bring me some food, I had indeed forgotten to feed myself in a while.” Q replied as he sat himself down at his station in the lab, Eve leaning her hip against his desk and crossing her arms, looking at him quizzically.

“I didn’t tell him to feed you.”

“Oh? Bond said at first you hung up on him because it was so late then called him back to say I was probably still here. He left me a sandwich so I assumed you told him I’d probably forgotten to eat and to bring me food if he was so intent on pestering me.” She had probably just forgotten, it had been three am after all.

“What exactly did he say happened during his little search for you?” Eve inquired, Q sighed, wondering why she was so curious.

“I can’t remember his exact wording. Just that he was leaving for a mission in the morning and wondered if I would be up for a tumble, so he came to find me.” Q shrugged, glad he had told her about the sex, or that phone call would have been a bit hard to explain.

For some reason Eve was now smiling like the cat who got the cream, a terrifying look if ever there was one, as she perched herself on his desk.

“What?” Q pressed, feeling out of the loop in his own life, Eve only smiled wider, it was a bit Cheshire cat-like now.

“I think Bond told you a little lie last night. Or at least omitted the truth a bit.”

“How so?”

“Contrary to what he apparently led you to believe, he didn’t phone me all cheeky and nonchalant to try and find out where you were.” Eve gave him a pointed look which Q didn’t really understand; he was a bit lost here really.

“What do you mean?”

“When he phoned me he was speaking so fast I barely understood him, telling me you weren’t in your flat or answering your phone and that we needed to start a search for you and to contact and wake up M. To be honest I think he intended to mobilise all of MI6. I thought he was just being an idiot at first which is why I hung up on him, I only called him back because I realised he was genuinely freaking out a little.” Eve’s pointed look never faded as she related the story to him, Q knew his face had morphed into confusion, because none of that made any sense to him.

“But why would he – ” Q sighed to himself. “Honestly he could have gone to any one of hundreds of women if he was that desperate for it.” Q snorted eventually, shaking his head. Eve let out an exceptionally exasperated sigh.

“I can’t even begin.” She held her hands up in surrender for some reason. “You two are both idiots.” Q felt that was a little harsh, he was an outstandingly intelligent individual, and even Bond had his moments. “Oh and by the way,” she continued as she stood up to leave, “I didn’t tell him to bring you food.”

Q clearly hadn’t been giving Bond enough credit, although it was always possible he just wanted to make sure Q had enough energy to make it worth his while, though that seemed harsh as Bond had hardly pushed him when he’d said no.

 Q revaluated Bond in his mind and added ‘capable of being genuinely thoughtful’ to the list. It was an ever growing list.

Maybe he had been concerned about Q, the man did face constant danger so it was possible his mind immediately leaped to the worst case scenario as that was what he was so used to dealing with. Though Q would admit he was surprised Bond was so concerned about him. Then again, he was so used to friends dying that probably wasn’t hugely surprising either.

Were they friends? Q wouldn’t have said so a few weeks ago, but they did have a good rapport, and Q did enjoy their conversations, as annoying and child-like as Bond could be. Bond did seek him out a lot as well, be it in the office to find out what he was working on, or apparently turning up at his house out of the blue with a bleeding arm.

Q realised he had been stupid, of course they were friends, it had just apparently happened without him noticing.

Q added ‘worries over his few friends _a lot_ ’ to his list of ‘things previously unknown about Bond’.

Throughout the day he kept half an eye on Bond and what he was doing, while alternating between working on his projects and taking strategic power-naps, until about midway through the evening when Bond and his whereabouts unsurprisingly vanished.

He was pretty sure at this point Bond just did it to piss him off, rather than because he was actually somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.

Q sighed and emailed M telling him Bond had fallen off the grid, he then sat through an incredibly angry phone call, making all the appropriate affirmative noises as he played solitaire on his computer.

Needless to say M had him spending the rest of the day developing the new tracker, even though there were far more pressing things for him to be doing really.

 

“Do you think Bond realises that every time he pisses off M we actually have to deal with M until he is back? I had to listen to him rant on and off all day.”

“Eve I think that is exactly why he does it.” Q sighed, collapsing down next to her on his new – and incredibly comfortable – sofa after grabbing a couple of beers out of the fridge.

“You’re probably right. This is a new sofa.” She commented, Q glared at his cats as they both cuddled up to Eve and not him. “It’s much nicer.”

“Bond got it for me.” Q told her uncapping the two beers and passing her one, which she took gratefully.

“Say again?” She laughed, “Any particular reason he bought you a sofa, or is it just part of the strange courting ritual you two have going on.” She teased, Q scrunched up his face.

“We are not _courting_.” It would be ridiculous even if it was something people still did. “And he bled on the old one.”

“Kinky.”

“Eve! His arm was bleeding when he showed up, I told you he made me stitch him up. Any and all sex happened in the bed.”

“I as a current resident of this sofa I am relieved, as your friend I’m disappointed.” She announced, taking a swig of beer, they were both tried enough that they were already fuzzy without the beer.

“What? Why?”

“Thought you two would be far more adventurous than ‘any and all sex happens in the bed’.”

“I said happened not happens. We’ll try to do better next time.”

“Oh, so there is going to be a next time is there?”

“You are far too interested in this.” Q grumbled.

“I’ve got to keep tabs so I can win the betting pool.” She replied matter-of-factly as she alternated between stroking Archimedes and Tesla.  

“What are you even betting on? We already had sex. And I don’t want to be the subject of office gossip.” Q protested, sitting up when he realised a betting pool meant everyone knew.

“Well if you didn’t want that you shouldn’t have slept with him in the first place. And there isn’t a betting pool, not yet anyway.” She grinned at him, Q’s cats were traitors.

“If you start a betting pool I will never forgive you. People aren’t supposed to know.”

“Yes you would, but don’t worry, I won’t. But Q, you work in a building full of spies, people are going to find out.” Unfortunately, she probably had a point, except Q could see no reason why they would go prying into the affairs of the boring Quartermaster in the first place. He’d just have to be stricter with Bond about the whole ‘not bringing it up at, around, or anywhere in the vicinity of work or co-workers’.

“I’m sure we can resist the urge to shag at work, so I really don’t see how anyone should find out.”

“That’s because you didn’t see the matching expressions on your faces the day after.” Eve muttered, Q ignored her, besides, Bond usually had a self-satisfied look on his face. 

Three beers later and Eve decided against bothering to go home. Q offered to sleep on the sofa, to which Eve laughed and told him that ‘given that you’re as gay as twelve rainbows I think we can share the bed’. Q then pointed out that Eve was not gay, but after some drunken promises, decided to trust her not to sully his honour.

 

Bond reappeared just three days later, M’s yelling tipped him off. No other agent felt the need to dig out their tracker, and given that that was the subject of the yelling, there was only one agent that could currently be trapped in that office. Q wondered when Mallory would realise that shouting at Bond really was completely pointless. Bond would continue to ignore all guidelines and do it his own way, and he would continue to pull it off better than any other agent, so he would continue to get away with it.

It was both infuriating and a bit of a turn on.

Q didn’t actually see Bond until later that afternoon when he came sauntering into the lab, pausing and waiting patiently by Q’s desk, where he quite amazingly waited until Q finished what he was doing.

“I have a present for you.”

“Oh?” Q asked, wondering what Bond’s idea of a present was, because currently all he had to go on was a sofa.

Then with a smile Bond produced what looked exactly like a hard drive.

“Is that…?”

“Indeed it is.”

“Your mission made it clear you only had to disable it.” Q said, grabbing at it like an excited child. This thing was the mother of all security drives, there probably wasn’t anything extremely important on it – which was why Bond’s mission hadn’t had saving it as a priority – but what Q wouldn’t give for a chance to crack it.

“I thought you might like a go at it.” Bond grinned, and Q resisted the urge to launch himself at Bond in gratitude.

“You thought correctly.” Q grinned, already wiring it up to his systems, itching to get started on it. “Mission a success then?”

“Obviously.” Bond scoffed with his usual aplomb. “Was a walk in the park. Barely any resistance.”

“So you did take the tracker out just to piss me off, good to know.” Q glared, but in all honesty he was more interested in the hard drive than something he already knew, however annoying it was.

“Well, to piss off M as well of course.”

“Of course.” Q griped, but they both knew Bond had successfully buttered him up with the hard drive. “As it was so easy I’m guessing you brought your tech back?”

“Yeah. I broke all that – ”

“What! How did you even – ”

“Focus on the hard drive Q!” Bond said as he beat a hasty retreat, though his voice betrayed his amusement.

With an incensed incoherent yell after him, which was more of a noise of general displeasure than any actual words, Q turned back to the hard drive. It took him about thirty seconds to forget how annoyed he was a Bond for losing the tech in favour of loving him for bringing him this gold mine. Bastard.

Q was genuinely delighted when he went home for the night – only two and a half hours after his day technically ended this time (though Mallory did have to literally turf him out) – and still hadn’t cracked the drive. He loved inventing things, but he also loved problems, and it had been a long time since one had taken him this long to solve. He knew he would get it in the end, but the ongoing challenge had him going home riding a high, brain racing through the other things he could try in the morning as he sat on the tube.

Q unlocked the door to his flat still buzzing with energy, flicking on the light and heading to the living room, where he found Bond sat waiting for him on the sofa.

“So, is now a better time to suggest breaking in the sofa?” Bond asked with a grin, he had barely finished his sentence before Q was pulling off his sweater and climbing into his lap. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“Very perceptive.” Q snarked before kissing Bond with an enthusiasm that was readily returned.

Q would probably never get over just how good Bond was at kissing. Bond had the perfect mix between chaste and filthy to get Q desperate for more, just the right amount of tongue that danced over Q’s own, calculated nips at Q’s lips and a dominant edge to the whole thing which had Q melting in his arms in no time. 

Another reason Bond was so awfully good at kissing, was that unlike so many others, Bond realised that kissing by no means only involved lips. Both his hands were slowly roaming over Q’s body, nothing rushed about it which was only serving to work Q up further, his entire body seemed to have become an erogenous zone under Bond’s hands. They dragged over his thighs where he straddled Bond’s lap and up his sides before sweeping under his shirt and travelling down to dip under the waistband of his increasingly tight trousers.

Needless to say Q understood why so many women had swooned at Bond’s feet.

Bond pulled Q’s lower lip between his teeth and tugged on it, eliciting a mildly embarrassing noise from Q as he ground himself forward into Bond’s lap, chasing his lips. Or at least, Q would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t currently in heaven and if Bond wasn’t so clearly enjoying every moan and whimper he managed to get out of him.

“You appreciated my gift then.” Bond commented, the smug bastard, as he broke the kiss to strip Q’s shirt from him.

“You knew I would.”

“Enough to tell me your real name?”

“You wish.”

“Enough to get you to call me James?”

“Oh do shut up Bond.” Q complained, Bond laughed but complied, turning his attention to Q’s neck. “Don’t you dare leave a mark.” Q gasped as Bond sucked – albeit gently – at his pulse point, sending sparks flying through his body and pooling in his groin.

“Not even a little one?” Bond teased, worrying the skin very carefully between his teeth. “Not even where no one could see?”

“Try it and I’ll send you off with cufflinks you don’t know explode.” Q grit out, it was unfortunate really, because Bond was indecently good at what he was currently doing to Q’s neck.

Bond rumbled out a soft laugh and released Q’s neck, pressing a chaste kiss over the skin he was teasing earlier. “So feisty.” Q would protest, but it seemed like Bond thought it was a good thing, so he hardly saw the need.

They carried on with what was the best make-out session of Q’s entire life, and hopefully one of Bond’s better ones too, for a while, until Q inevitably started to get impatient. He really had expected Bond to be a much more dominating lover than he in fact seemed to be, not that Q was complaining, he was quite enjoying this position actually.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to get up if you want me to get these off.” Bond smirked, flicking open the button to Q’s trousers.

“I don’t suppose you brought the lube and condoms out to the sofa while you were waiting?” Q asked, hopeful that they wouldn’t have to separate far.

“I’m afraid I did not.” Bond answered, Q heaved a sigh and prepared to clamber off Bond’s lap, but before he could Bond had spun them and pinned Q to the sofa, and if he wasn’t hard before he certainly was now. “Wait here, I’ll get it.” Bond told him, pressing a kiss to Q’s lips and sitting back, dragging Q’s trousers off him as he went. “You’ll want to get rid of these too.” He grinned, snapping the waistband of Q’s underwear.

Q shimmed out of them under Bond’s hungry gaze, failing to suppress his blush as Bond continued to drink him in. “Oh hurry up.” Q groused, grabbing the nearest pillow and lobbing it at Bond’s perfect face, leaving Bond laughing and retreating to the bedroom.

“I’m surprised the cats haven’t appeared and demanded I feed them yet.” Q mused aloud as he heard Bond rifling around his bedside table in the other room.

“I fed them.” Came the unexpected answer from Bond.

“You what?” Q laughed, the domesticity of the idea hilarious to him.

“Yeah. I came in and they made it very clear what they wanted, I figured you wouldn’t mind. And I figured one less thing to slow us down.” He added with a wink as he reappeared in the doorway, for some reason leaning against it instead of coming back to the sofa.

“You had the foresight to feed my cats but not to grab the lube and a condom?” Q huffed incredulously.

“I wouldn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“Everything about you is presumptuous.” Q grumbled. “Hurry up!” He then whined, annoyed that Bond hadn’t yet reappeared from the bedroom.

“Always so bossy. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been with someone as demanding as you.” Bond mused from the doorway, deliberately frustrating Q by not coming back over to the sofa.

“I find that highly unlikely. And if it bothers you so much, then I suggest you get over here and find some way to shut me up.” Q taunted as Bond took his sweet time walking back over to the sofa.

“Who said anything about it bothering me? I like how needy you get.” He smirked, leaning down and returning his mouth to Q’s collar bone, it almost distracted him from what he had just said.

“I do not get needy!” Q protested, even though he knew he probably did.

“Of course not.” Bond smirked, Q slapped his arm and was sure he had a petulant look on his face.

Bond wiped it off of him by suddenly picking him up – obnoxiously easily just like the first time – and sitting back down on the sofa with Q returned to his lap.

“You seemed to like this position.” Bond smirked, and Q had to agree, though to be honest Q would probably enjoy every position with Bond (which he fully intended to do eventually).

His imagination was quickly running away from him with idea about what exactly they might get up to in the future, a line of thought that was swiftly cut off as Bond wrapped a hand around Q’s straining cock and gave it a slow, firm stroke. Q moaned and his eyes fluttered shut, he discovered Bond’s smirking face upon opening them again.

“Don’t be so smug.” Q groaned, rolling his hips down purposefully and feeling a little smug himself as Bond’s hand gripped his waist tighter at the sensation.

“Not smug, just very, _very_ happy right now.” Bond grinned, bucking his hips up to make sure Q could feel exactly how _happy_ Bond was.

Q rolled his eyes and reached for Bond’s buckle as Bond’s mouth started travelling over Q’s chest, latching onto one of his nipples, lavishing it with attention before moving on to give the other the same treatment. Q meanwhile fought with Bond’s belt and fly, Bond’s thick erection making it more difficult as well as his concentration not being helped by Bond’s mouth or his fingers, which were now squeezing his arse and inching ever closer to teasing at his entrance.

Finally Q won his fight with Bond’s trousers, reaching in and pulling Bond’s cock free, taking a moment to marvel again at just how big Bond really was.

“You’re drooling Q.” Bond grinned, reaching a whole new level of smugness, Q considered wiping that look of his face by dropping to his knees, but with Bond’s fingers beginning to press against his hole, it was a gargantuan task to want anything other than that.

“Next time.” Q promised, feeling rather pleased with himself as realisation visibly dawned on Bond’s face about what he meant, Q close enough to see his pupils dilate even further, piercing blue almost completely swallowed up by black.

“Promises promises.” Bond tutted and Q was ready to quip back until it completely dissolved into a moan as Bond smoothly pressed one slicked finger into him. He hadn’t even noticed him opening the lube. Bloody spies.

Q was absolutely certain he had never been this noisy in bed (or on sofa) before in his life, there was just something about Bond that made him loud. Bond seemed to like it anyway, kissing Q ferociously as he worked him open on his fingers, swallowing up every whimper and moan like a starving man. Bond had three fingers buried deep in Q’s arse, alternating between glancing, pressing and entirely missing his sweet spot, working to leave Q unbearably _needy_ for more.   

Employing what was left of his cognitive abilities – most of which were in tatters at the behest of Bond’s clever fingers – Q fumbled around for the condom, tearing it open and rolling it down Bond’s hard cock before groping for the lube and slicking Bond’s cock further.

“Now, Bond, hurry up.” Q whined, Bond smiled and nipped at his lip.

“Ask nicely.” He then teased.

“You _cannot_ be serious.” Q groaned, grinding himself down on Bond’s fingers.

“No, I’m not. I’ve been thinking about fucking you again for days. Begging can wait for when I have a bit more patience.”

Before Q could really digest the fact that Bond had apparently been thinking about him, Bond was pulling his fingers back and replacing them with something much larger pressing at his stretched entrance. Bond seemed intent to slowly press himself into Q, Q on the other hand was wholly out of patience and all but slammed himself down to the hilt.  

“Fuck, _Q_.” Bond growled, hands gripping Q’s waist so hard he was fairly sure he would have finger shaped bruises in the morning, but he couldn’t find it in him to care about the marks just then, especially as in that moment, it was just another delicious sensation filling him up.

Q gave Bond no time to catch his breath, immediately starting to roll his hips at an increasing pace. It did not take Bond long to catch up, shifting the angle and driving up with unerring accuracy into Q’s sweet spot, leaving him crying out strings of incoherent syllables as he rode Bond with what could only be described as abandon.

Bond claimed Q’s mouth again, though they were more nipping at each other’s lips and sharing air than managing to effectively kiss each other. Q was thoroughly enjoying it anyway, feeling his end approaching far too quickly. Unwilling for it to be over so soon, Q began to slow his hips, settling into slow and languid circles which had him sighing and Bond smiling into their kisses, drawing idle patterns on Q’s back with his fingertips. It was disarmingly intimate, still, Q let it continue for a while, losing himself in the feel of Bond everywhere over his body.

Q considered it a victory when it was Bond’s hands on his hips urging him to speed up his teasing rhythm, not his own desperation. He did as he was encouraged, letting Bond’s strong hands help maintain the fast pace of his hips. Q’s arms settled around Bond’s shoulders, hands combing through his short blond hair as he found himself panting too hard to continue any remotely functional kissing, instead burying his face in Bond’s shoulder and neck, muffling his moans and whines against the scarred skin there.

“Q, I’m close.” Bond breathed holding his hips tighter and moving them faster even as he snapped his hips up to meet Q’s in an increasingly brutal rhythm. Q was unable at this point to form words, or even thought beyond _yespleasegodmoredontstop_ , so in way of a reply he simply cried out a little brokenly as Bond nailed his prostate for the umpteenth time in a row. “Come on Q, come for me.” Bond murmured into his ear, hands squeezing hips and cock driving up deep inside Q pushing Q over the edge with a shout of ‘ _Bond!’_ as he came violently and untouched between them.

Q collapsed against Bond’s chest and continued to shudder and moan as aftershocks continued to tremor through him. With his orgasm Q’s muscles clamped down around Bond’s length and he managed only a few more thrusts before he came hard and deep inside Q. With slow rolls of hips they milked every last ounce of pleasure from each other until they were both too sensitive for more.

Bond was slumped back against the back of the sofa and Q was resting against his chest, at some point Bond had slung his arms around Q’s waist and was petting the small of his back while Q traced random scars that he could feel with his fingers, eyes contentedly closed. It was odd, in a way, Q had never been much of a cuddler and he hadn’t expected Bond to be either.

He attributed what was happening to a reluctance to move opposed to anything that could be constituted cuddling.  

“It’s a good sofa.” Bond eventually said, murmured quietly, as if he was afraid Q had fallen asleep.

“Quite. I already have fond memories of it.” Q replied, he felt Bond’s chuckle more than he heard it.

“Can I use your shower before I go?” Bond asked as Q yawned.

“Sure. But I’m using it first.”

“You’ll have to get up to manage that.”

“Give me five more minutes for my legs to be less like jelly.” Q muttered, shifting slightly against Bond.

“At least I know you enjoyed it.” Bond said, Q could practically hear his smirk.

“Yes, because you need my jelly legs to know that. My untouched orgasm gave you no clues.” Q snarked, Bond laughed again, Q seemed to be very good at getting him to do that.

“Clearly I should bring you more presents in the future. Both the sofa and hard drive seem like great successes.”

“You’ll spoil me for everyone else.”

“With the presents or the sex?”

“Both.” Q grumbled.

“Only you could grumble about that Q.” Bond sounded like he was unbelievably fond of Q again, laughing like it was something only the two of them knew, and perhaps it was, Q had certainly never had sex like this before, so worry free and easy, without any of the mess and upkeep that relationships bring.

They stayed there for a few minutes more, until Q realised that the way Bond’s hands were gently stroking his arms was likely to send him soundly off to sleep, and he really needed to shower before that, he had far too much sweat and come on him not to.

“Right.” Q sighed, finally lifting himself off Bond and standing up, Bond steadying him with a hand and a smug smile as he wobbled a little like Bambi at first. “I need a shower and some sleep. Towels are in the bathroom cupboard, I won’t be long in the shower and I’ll probably be asleep by the time you finish in there no matter how fast you are.”

“I’ll be sure to lock the door on my way out.” Bond promised, and with a satisfied nod and one final look at Bond in all his naked glory, Q headed for the shower.

Q fell into bed after his shower and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. By morning he honestly couldn’t remember if he actually had seen Bond playing with his cats after his shower, or if he had dreamt it. Though why he would dream up such a thing he couldn’t say, any more than he could really explain why the idea of Bond playing with his cats made him smile.

He discovered that he did have finger-shaped bruises on his hips, just as he also discovered that he apparently didn’t mind them at all. After all, he supposed no one could see them and he was the only one who knew they were there, so he decided there really was no harm in them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the wait, thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos mean the world to me <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bond is reckless and Q is so far up the nile it's embarrassing - hope you enjoy the update!

 

 

“007 please put that down.” Q gave an exasperated sigh, it was the third time he had had to say that in as many minutes, why did Bond always have to touch?

“You keep saying that.” Bond mused allowed, continuing to wander around the prototype lab.

“Because you keep picking up and interfering with my tech.” Q pointed out, his tone clipped lest it betray how much Bond’s snooping actually amused him. Really it was nice to have an agent that was actually interested in the tech beyond ‘does it blow up?’ and ‘how do I make it blow up?’ – though, Bond was also very fond of things that blew up.

“Well, is there anything I’m allowed to touch.” Bond leered, and Q would have told him off for it, especially given the number of Q-Branch minions that were also bustling around in the room, but as Bond had a habit of flirting with everyone, he supposed it didn’t matter. The other people in the lab didn’t bat an eyelid anyway.

“Not a single thing.” Q replied pointedly, not doing Bond the courtesy of even looking up from what he was doing – not when he knew Bond would see him looking anyway, Q would never give the bastard the satisfaction.

“And here I was, just trying to show an interest by looking at your new toys.”

“If you could manage to just look with your eyes then that would be fine. But as it stands you’ve proven yourself to once again be a massive child making grabby hands at everything you see.” Q retorted, which made Bond laugh, Q had to work hard to suppress his own smile at the sound.    

“What are you working on?” Bond asked, coming over to perch on the edge of Q’s desk, picking up Q’s mug of tea and taking a sip as if it was his all along. Q scowled at him, Bond smirked back.

“A new gun.” Q answered a little testily as he swiped his mug back from Bond, sloshing a splash over his cardigan as he did so, at least Bond tried to suppress his amused smile that time, Q was far too tired for this, he had already pulled extra time the day before and Eve had convinced him to stay out late with her the previous evening, apparently needing a drinking buddy that she didn’t have to worry about spilling state secrets too when tipsy. Still, it was difficult to be genuinely annoyed with Bond, something he used relentlessly to his advantage.

“It looks a little more elaborate than that.” Bond commented, taking in everything that was spread over Q’s large desk, and of course it was more elaborate than that. Making a bog standard gun was just so mundane, Q always left that to other members of Q-Branch. Well, except Bond’s standard guns, Q always found himself doing those ones as well, he supposed it was just because he knew the way Bond liked the grip and trigger pressure _just so_. It was probably just easier that he did it himself than explain it to anyone else, likely why he had never really given it any thought before now.

 “It’s a tracking gun for a car, front left side, will extend out from the bonnet. Faster than the old ones, more precise tracking too, and will not shoot if it judges too many civilians are in the vicinity. It’s quite clever really.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Bond said, and Q would be lying if he said that didn’t make him preen a little. “But Q, you shouldn’t have.” Bond continued with a grin, reaching to touch it because he apparently just could not resist, Q batted his hand away with the practised ease of someone used to nosey agents.

“I didn’t. This is for an Audi TT not an Aston, double-oh-two’s Audi TT to be precise.”

“She still drives that thing.”

“Yes. Emphasis on the ‘still’, as in _she_ has managed not to blow her car up.”

“It’s just such a boring car. Feels so un-spy.” Bond commented, and Q had always suspected that Bond loved the aesthetic of espionage more than the actual job – Q actually had no idea if Bond did like his job or not, or if he was just too good at it to avoid feeling guilty if he quit, not that you can ever really quit his kind of job, he’d crafted it into a lifestyle after all.

“Double-oh-two is actually adept at undercover, and remaining undercover as long as needed, rather than just until someone asks her her bloody name.” It had always infuriated Q that even when he was meant to be flying under the radar Bond would introduce himself with that terrible line ‘the name’s Bond, James Bond’, especially as he was so bloody good at falling off the map from them whenever he felt like ripping his tracker out, _which was all the damn time_. “Besides, I make it far less boring.”

“That you do.” Bond agreed.

“If you’re going to insist on sitting there, at least make yourself useful Bond, hold this.” Q sighed, passing him a small coil to hold on to, it kept trying to roll off the desk when Q put it down anyway. “Carefully.” Q added, knowing what usually happened to his things in Bond’s hands.

“You know Q, I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.” Bond teased, though to his credit, he was holding the coil very careful, so Q decided not to scowl that time.

“I trust you with my life Bond, but a startling amount of prior experience had taught me _not_ to trust you with my equipment.” Q replied, and he knew, without even needing to love at Bond, that he had that amused smug smirk on his face and was getting ready to open his mouth to make some ill-advised joke.

“As I rememb– ”

“Don’t even think about it.” Q grumbled sharply, effectively cutting off whatever version of ‘oh but you enjoyed how well I took care of you _equipment_ the other night’ Bond was about to come out with.

“I’d say you’re no fun, but I know that’s not true.” Bond shook his head, fond smile on his face, Q couldn’t help but smile too, he guessed it was nice for someone to think he was fun for a change.

They sat there together for a while, Bond actually being quite helpful by simply holding the things that Q asked him to hold and passing him the things Q asked to be passed. They were eventually interrupted by Moneypenny pocking her head into Q branch, if not for her, Q wondered if they would have passed the entire day like that.

“Ah, Bond there you are. M’s after you.” Moneypenny told him, before waiting at the door for Bond, unsurprisingly M had apparently decided he couldn’t be trusted to go where he was told without an escort.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell him I am unavailable as I am assisting our quartermaster with a very delicate operation.” Bond answered, with mock haughtiness, it made Q laugh, putting down what he was doing and taking the things currently in Bond’s hands to place carefully back on his desk.

“But as that quartermaster does not enjoy having M yell at him, I will not be party to you ignoring him.” Q snorted, swatting Bond’s thigh to encourage him to get off the desk.

“Fine then, duty calls.” Bond sighed, brushing imaginary lint off his suit as he stood. “See you later Q. Say hello to Archimedes and Tesla for me.”

“Try not to do anything reckless Bond.” Q said, and received Bond’s very best ‘who me?’ faux innocent face in return, successfully getting a snort of a laugh out of Q, with seemed to have been his intention, because with that the agent grinned and sauntered out of the Q-Branch lab.

“Be easier to find Bond by putting a tracker on you at the moment.” Moneypenny said, with a pointed look in his direction.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Q sniffed nonchalantly, turning his attention back to his work.

A few hours later Bond reappeared at Q’s desk, leaning against it distractingly in that way of his, at least, Q found it distracting.

“Yes double-oh-seven?” Q asked, putting on the final pieces of casing of the gun, ready now to be fitted into double-oh-two’s car.

“Are you alright? You look tired?” Bond asked, the concern mildly confusing Q as it always did – perhaps a sign that it should not confuse him anymore.

“Fine, had a late night,” Q waved off Bond’s question, “what did you need?”

“Apparently I’m going to Siberia tonight. M is getting annoyed that you haven’t checked your emails”

“I’ve been busy. Wait, you’re not supposed to be leaving for Siberia for another fortnight, I haven’t even finished your gear.”

“Which is probably why M is annoyed you haven’t checked your emails.”

“He could always come down here and actually ask if it’s so urgent.”

“I think he had a meeting with the home secretary right after I left.”

“Are you saying that the home secretary trumps me in importance?” Q asked, eyebrow raised in mock-indignation, Bond laughed and grinned at him; Q really was good at making him do that.

“I would never say nor believe such a thing, M however clearly has his priorities wrong.” Bond responded and Q failed to completely suppress his smile, corners of his mouth quirking even as he rolled his eyes.

“Evidently.”

“Do you have time to finish the gear? If you don’t I’ll just tell M I’ll figure something out.” Bond said, Q wondered why always had the idea that Bond was a demanding ass, when he never actually seemed to be in reality.

“I’m sure I shall manage it.” Q replied, professional pride dictating that he _would_ get it done on time. The field agents weren’t the only ones that knew how to work to impossible deadlines. “When do you leave?”

“Latest I can get out of here is probably two am.” Bond answered, looking like he was calculating in his head how late he could leave it without missing his plane, Q appreciated it, even if he was hoping for something more like five.

“Bloody hell.” Q sighed, scrubbing a hand under his glasses and over his eyes before rolling his shoulders. “Right, you need to get out of here so I can concentrate then. Oh, and tell Moneypenny to feed my cats please.”

“I appreciate it Q.” Bond said before miraculously doing as he was told and getting out.

Q had been rather looking forward to clocking off at precisely half-five and having a quiet evening and early night because he was exhausted, but no rest for the wicked, he guessed, nor quartermasters it seemed.

 Q shook himself and cracked his knuckles in an attempt to convince his body that he was not tired at all and in fact ready for action and genius before brewing himself a mug of tea and finding what he needed to finish off Bond’s mission equipment.

Half five came and gone and Q worked unrelentingly to get the tech finished – no matter what he might threaten it simply would not do to send Bond off under-protected. Q vaguely remembered finishing with a triumphant ‘ _HA!_ ’ at around half one in the morning, after which he was asleep on his desk with a snore before he had even emailed M to let him know he was done.

When Q woke up a jumper had been pillowed under his head, his glasses were neatly folded next to him which he found with minimal grouping, the tech he had just finished for Bond was gone and in its place was a small note saying simply; _Thank you Q_.

Q wanted to attribute it all to Moneypenny, but he knew that wasn’t true.

 

“Q? Why are you here?” M asked unceremoniously as he walked past him in the hall the next morning, Q blinking up at him owlishly through tired eyes that were buried in his laptop until moments ago. Eve constantly told him he shouldn’t type and walk, Q reminded her that he had only walked into things _twice_ which given the frequency of walking-and-typing that he did, was not half bad.

“Um, it’s ten o’clock on a Tuesday?” Q responded, screwing up his face as he tried to remember if he had forgotten something, M gave him an annoyed look.

“Yes I know that Q but given that you had to be here until well into the night I assumed you realised you could have the day off.”

“Oh.” Q responded dumbly, even though he had, in fact, realised that.

In truth Q had wanted to be at work today to make sure Bond got where he was going in one piece and that all of his tech worked, he had been rather tired when he finished it all off after all. It was just professional pride that had him want to keep an eye on 007.

“Had you even been home?” M then asked, eyeing the day-old tea stain on his cardigan.

“…no.”

“Go home Q.” M sighed, as if he were an overworked teacher and Q was an irritatingly keen child in his class. M started walking away and it took Q a moment before he remembered that he didn’t want to go home, so Q quickly jogged awkwardly to catch back up with him.

“Would it be a problem if I didn’t?” Q asked, surely M16 wasn’t an institution particularly concerned with labour laws, at least M had never been before when calling Q at all hours of the day to do some work.

“Why on earth would you want to stay at work if you don’t have to?” M replied, and at first Q thought it was a bit of rhetorical exasperation, until M looked at him clearly expecting an answer, and wondering why it was taking him so long to do so.

“I was hoping to keep an eye on Bond.” Q replied, then cringed inwardly as he realised how that sounded, not to mention the hard and inscrutable expression M had turned on him.

“No. Go home Q. I will have someone call you if anything goes awry.” M told him, voice brokering no room for argument, Q pursed his lips and nodded tightly, knowing there really was no use in arguing with his boss unless he wanted M to be snitty with him for a month.

Q packed up his laptop and shoved it into his messenger bag and left the bunker in a grump. It had never been an issue before, pulling a late one and then staying on the next day to make sure everything went off smoothly, so why M had decided to take issue with it now was beyond Q.

He sent Moneypenny a text asking her to keep tabs on Bond for him, make sure nothing was wired wrong and gone and blown up in his face. She teased him mercilessly for about half an hour with text messages that he stopped answering after the fourth about how Q was worried for his beautiful beau. When she was quite done, he thanked her for feeding his cats, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind even before Moneypenny’s answering text message, that Bond had done it, not her.

Q sighed when he saw the wrappings of what looked like hideously expensive tuna steak in the bin, Whiskas cat food was never going to be good enough for them now. Oh well, Bond would just have to keep buying it for them then. What was slightly concerning was that Q knew if he asked, Bond probably _would_ keep buying it.

Despite her teasing, Eve sent him periodic updates on Bond throughout the day, and satisfied that everything was going fine Q spent the day tinkering out some experimental code in his living room with daytime TV on in the background.

Astoundingly, by the time Q got into work the next morning, Bond still had his tracker in. Throughout the day as Q continued his frankly ingenious designs for a semi-bullet proof suit, he kept one of his computers devoted to Bond’s whereabouts, vital-signs, communications and schematics included wherever possible. It wasn’t technically his job to keep tabs on bond, but Q saw it as keeping tabs on his tech really, which was his job. Sort of. Not really. But it was just so amusing to hear Bond’s occasional sardonic responses to his handler’s advice. Now there was a job Q would never want: 007’s Handler.

Q was tinkering with improvements to the bunker’s security system when he got side-tracked by the conversation going on between Bond and his handler, Bond whispering harshly while his handler spoke normally (normal being increasingly frustrated with Bond).

“Take the stairs Bond. You need to go down and you need to get out, they seem to have detected you.” The handler – Harris? Harding? Something like that – spoke, and to be fair to Bond, if Q was the one in a potentially life-threatening situation, someone speaking to him like that would get very old very fast.

“I haven’t completed the mission.” Bond grit back, and Q could see on the screen Bond caught on the fifth floor, his target on the eighth, and what looked like up to twenty men thundering down the stairs towards him, only a few floors away and closing.

“You can infiltrate again tomorrow Bond. For now get out.” The handler told him and frankly that was an awful idea, by tomorrow security would have tripled, and before Q really registered what he was doing, he was hacking into the communications – did it count as hacking if you invented the software? – to give Bond some genuinely useful advice.

“There must be a way to do it. Just _think_.” Bond demanded, the men after him now only two floors away.

“007 get to the stairwell _now_ or I’ll – ”

“Bond, ignore him. Get to the elevator shaft, halfway down the corridor on your right.” Q instructed and without missing a beat Bond was on his way.

“Q I really must protest this is completely out of line and – ”

“Shut _up_ Harding, this really is not the moment.”

“My name is Harrison!”

“Still really not the time.” Q bit back before remotely shutting down Harrison’s microphone from his own computer, he tried not to smirk as he heard Bond’s amused chuckle. “Right Bond you’re going to have to get into the elevator shaft and climb, make sure the doors close behind you. The lift is at the bottom at the moment but best be quick just in case it decides to move. Wouldn’t do to have you turned into mulch.”

“You say the sweetest things Q.”

“Get on with it Bond.” Q replied, rolling his eyes, though even to his own ears his voice sounded _fond_. “Right up just one floor, by the time you get there the people chasing you will be about three floors below you. They’re assuming you are heading for the exit – obviously – so they’ve only left behind five men guarding the disk, should be easy.”

“Easy he says.” Bond snorted, not even sounding winded as he climbed.

“You’re a big boy, I’m sure you can handle it.” Q waved him off, trying not to think about how it wasn’t surprising that Bond found it so easy to lift him when he apparently found climbing up elevator shafts easy as well.

“You would know.” Bond teased back, Q couldn’t help but think that now really wasn’t the time for teasing.

“Oh do shut up Bond.” Q sighed, bringing up maps of the surrounding city as Bond started to climb back out onto the floor above. “Right, get moving, it probably won’t take them very long to realise you haven’t actually left the building. Stairwell and up two more floors, out and it’s the door at the end of the corridor. Approach the door quietly, they’ve no way of seeing you coming along the corridor that I can see. Inside the room there’s two on the left, two on the right and one at the desk – presumably where the disk is. Try not to get shot.”

“Always do my best to avoid that Q.”

“Really? You’d never guess.” Q muttered, which apparently wasn’t a good idea because it forced Bond to smother a laugh, lest he be discovered.

With an efficiency that really was quite alarming, Bond took out all five people in the room and had the disk in hand within a minute.

“Excellent Bond.”

“Yeah how do I get out of here now?”

“Good question. The men that were chasing you are unsurprisingly now heading back up the stairs, you probably won’t get away with the elevator shaft again.”

“Anytime now would be great Q.”

“Laundry shute?”

“Possibly.”

“It’s midway down the corridor. Best hope you fit. And that it isn’t a straight drop.”

“Found it. It’s a straight drop down but as I will barely fit I should be able to control my decent.”

“For eight flights?”

“Needs must Q.”

“Oh god.” Q cringed as he watched little red dot Bond sailing down the building slightly too fast for comfort on his monitor. He landed with a thud at the other end, but thankfully his vitals seemed fine. “Oh good you’re alive. Okay, get up and start running. Fast.”

“Alive is a loose term.” Bond grunted, Q dreaded to think how much skin he’s probably lost on his hands and likely back sliding down that shute.

“Well if you get moving you can continue being alive in the loosest sense, opposed to dead in the literal sense. Motivation enough?” Q snarked, watching as Bond’s dot was slow to get running, likely because he was struggling out of the pile of laundry he’d landed in – now that was an amusing mental image.

“If only so I can live to see your beautiful face again Q.”

“Get on with it Bond. Out through the service entrance on, that’s a left, another left then a right after a short corridor. They’ll likely be on your tail.”

“Got it.” Bond answered, his little red dot swerving out onto the streets.

Q guided him down a convoluted route through the city and back to the hotel where he was lying low, waiting to meet a contact in a couple of days that would give him the code to cracking the disk. Q could probably do it without, but it would take him a while. He’d also probably have to brush up on his Russian to do so, if not learn Mongolian from scratch.

“Good luck with the rest of your mission Bond.”

“See you in a few days Q.” Bond replied, and Q finally returned to the real world.

The real world where M was apparently stood six feet away looking torn between pissed off and abstractly amused. Standing next to him was someone that was probably Harrison given the way he was fuming. Q honestly had no idea how long they had been there.

“Q. Care to explain what exactly just happened?” M asked, arms folded across his head, Moneypenny stood off to the side, hiding her smile behind a few files.

“If Bond had gone back the next day it wold have been impossible. Security would have tripled, at least. Harrison was insisting Bond leave even though the mission could still easily be completed without endangering the agent an unacceptable amount. I could see how it could be done and there really was not time to protect Harrison’s ego or explain how to him to explain to Bond. It made far more sense for me to simply guide bond through instead.”

“I think we all worked that part out for ourselves Q. I am far more interested in why exactly you were watching in the first place.” M continued drolly, Moneypenny looked downright _gleeful_ , and Harrison looked like this was not the conversation he had expected to happen and was annoyed about it.

“Oh. Um. I was, looking out for my tech.” Q finished lamely, trying not to end it like a question and probably failing. Regardless Moneypenny burst out laughing and promptly excused herself from the conversation, Q glared at her retreating figure.

“You were looking out for your tech?” M repeated dryly, eyebrow raised, everyone was garnering far too much entertainment from all of this.

“He has a habit of not bringing it back.”

“Quite.” M replied, before sighing and turning a slightly more serious expression on Q. “Look Q, I’m not going to tell you what you can and cannot do in your private life, but be careful it doesn’t affect your work life.”

“Yes sir.” Q nodded and thankfully both M and a still protesting Harrison left.

Q had briefly considered protesting with ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ but unfortunately the fact that he had gone bright red very much suggested that he did know what M was talking about. How did M even find out. There wasn’t even anything to find out! Q and Bond were entirely casual, Bond like to have sex to unwind, Q thus far had no reason to protest to the indecently good sex happening semi-regularly. There was no relationship baggage going on, there wasn’t even any cuddling. Except for that one time, but Q maintained that was exhaustion not proper cuddling anyway. The point was, there was nothing going on, and what small thing there was going on certainly was not why he was suddenly keeping tabs on Bond.

He liked Bond, and that he was attractive was undeniable. But Q wasn’t some swooning maiden, swept off his feet by Bond’s heroics. No. He was Bond’s Quartermaster, he had seen the agent at his worst, he had seen the agent lose, he’d seen him beaten bloody and surprisingly vulnerable and he knew just how well Bond slept around on missions. Q had seen him play with his cats too. Bond wasn’t a mysterious and charming action hero to him, he was a friend and he was a pain in Q’s arse – both the figurative annoying kind and the very good literal kind. Q was simply not stupid enough to go putting his emotions there, so whatever reason he had for keeping an eye on him like he had today, it had absolutely nothing to do with the development in their relationship.

Absolutely nothing.  

 

When you sign a contract working for MI6, no one actually warns you about how often you are going to get woken up in the middle of the night by your phone ringing.

“’lo.” Q managed around a yawn, shoving his glasses onto his face and checking the time; 3am. Why did emergent crises always happen around 3am? Was the universe conspiring to deprive Q of sleep?

“You need to get down to the bunker right now.” Moneypeny’s beautiful voice greeted him.

“Why? It’s three am Eve.” Q whined, rolling back over in bed, not willing to get up before he knew that it wasn’t something he could solve over the phone.

“Bond’s in trouble. You need to get here, you’re the only one he listens to.” Q didn’t have time to argue about the second part, because he was already out of bed and pulling on his clothes, phone tucked between shoulder and ear.

“I’ll be there as quick as I can, but I’ve only got my bike.” The tube in the small hours was never a great plan.

“M has sent a car, it’ll be there in five.”

Q hung up and grabbed his laptop, he had plenty at work but his personal laptop was far superior, it was also his favourite one. It also had questionably legal infiltration software’s on it, but that was neither here nor there, and they might come in handy.

In rumpled clothes and setting out food for the day for his two very annoyed cats Q dashed out of his front door, clanging the door shut and locking it. The car was just pulling up as Q arrived, wasting no time before throwing himself into the back seat.

M and Moneypenny were both waiting for him when he arrived, which was never a good sign, and immediately started briefing him.

“They’ve tracked Bond down. We don’t know how, but the contact may have sold him out, may even be dead, but our priority is Bond at the moment. He escaped but not with the disk, he’s chasing them down now, severely outnumbered, they seem to be heading for a more rural town. Bond isn’t listening to a damn thing Harrison is saying.”

“Right. I’m not sure how I can help. None of this is exactly my area.” Q felt a little helpless, he _hated_ feeling helpless. They weren’t prepared for this so the only surveillance they had were the camera’s they could get into and Bond’s information – thankfully he still had his earpiece in. There was nothing to hack, nothing to build and nothing to blow up remotely, the area of Siberia they were headed into too rural for Q to be able to do much of anything. It sent a sick twist in his gut, he’d never felt it before for an agent in peril, Q supposed it was more the helplessness than anything else.

“No we need you to take over from Harrison. Talk to Bond, ascertain whether he can actually plausibly retrieve the disk without dying, and if not, get him to pull out.” M reeled off, abstractly Q wondered how pissed Harrison was going to be that they had called in Q specially to do his job. “You’re the only one Bond listens to.” M added, and Q almost laughed at the absurdity of that.

“Bond doesn’t listen to me!”

“Where you even _there_ yesterday when you took over his handling? Bond is a damn kitten for you compared to everyone else.” Moneypenny almost-shouted in exasperation, Q knew a lot of it would be fuelled by the fact she was scared for her friend, still, Q was about to protest, Bond was hardly a _kitten_ , when M held up a hand and silenced them both.

“Regardless, the fact is he listens to you more than he bothers for the rest of us. He’s also probably slightly less likely to lie to you about the state of the situation. We need you to at least try to get him to see sense.”

“Why won’t he pull out if it’s hopeless?” Q asked, even though he already knew, Bond was not good at accepting failures. Still, knowing why didn’t make Q feel any better about it, in fact he felt like he might throw up at any moment, the idea that Bond would go tearing towards death just because he couldn’t handle the fact that he’d failed his mission did not sit well with him.

Harrison was disgruntled but mainly just concerned when Q took over for him, relinquishing the headset and prime position in front of the screens that didn’t really have anything hugely useful to tell him, just maps and Bond’s location, his estimated distance from the targets. What Q wouldn’t give for a visual.

“Bond. Can you hear me?”

“Q? Isn’t it 3am in London?”

“Yes, your refusal to listen to anyone apparently means I’m no longer allowed to sleep.” Q grumbled, somehow it was always easier to joke with Bond than be serious.  

“I’ll listen when someone has a good suggestion.” Bond complained, voice like steel, Q could hear the rumbling engine of the bike he was riding, could tell by the background noise that Bond was going fast. He was closing on the targets, but likely wouldn’t reach them until the town.

“Tell me the situation.”

“Caught me off-guard a couple of hours ago, grabbed the disk, almost killed me, I shouldn’t have let it happen.” Bond started, Q immediately knowing without a shadow a of doubt that that _I shouldn’t have let it happen_ was precisely why Bond was now hopelessly pursuing them. Bond had pulled off impossible situations before, it was the only reason he thought he could do it now, and one day, he wasn’t going to manage it, and that was going to be it. Q refused to think about that.

“How many and how far ahead?”

“About twenty-five I think. Out of gun range, within sight.”

“Bond that’s too many pull out.”

“I’ve faced worse odds.”

“Normally when we know where they’re going next.” Q grit out, opening up a map of the town they seemed to be heading for, just in case it was helpful.

“I do know where they’re going. They have a base in the town we’re closing on, they’ll head there to regroup before moving on, probably within hours. It will take us weeks if not months to track them down again.”

“Bond I cannot help you from here, you need to listen to me and you need to pull out.”

“I can get it.” Was Bond’s only reply, Q gave out an infuriated yell and strongly considered tossing his mug across the room, but there was still perfectly good tea in it, so he refrained.

There wasn’t much more Q could do than watch as Bond obstinately kept going. When he reached what must be the base he took out the guards out front, but not before they’d sounded the alarm throughout the building.

“ _Bond_.” Q said sharply, but of course Bond kept going, determination was not always a good thing.

When he hit the second floor it became clear that he wasn’t going to be able to reach the floor he needed, too many large and locked doors and too little fire-power.

“Bond, what are you doing?” Q asked, as Bond’s little red dot stopped climbing higher in the building and Q could hear the tell-tale sounds of him rifling through a cupboard of some sort.

“You don’t want to know.”

“ _Bond_.” Q said warningly again, a swooping feeling in his gut telling him he had a bad feeling he knew what Bond was going to try.

“We don’t need the disk as much as we need them _not_ to have the disk.”

“ _Bond_.” Q reprimanded for the fourth time, not that it made any more difference than the other three times. “Please tell me you’re not building a bomb.”

“Well it’s not my fault that they practically left the ingredients lying around.”

“Yes Bond terrorists like bombs. _I_ however do not like operatives deliberately bringing buildings down around themselves because of some misplaced sense of guilt.” Q snapped, his hands were shaking, he had always had remarkably steady hands before.

“Aren’t you proud of my inventing skills?” Bond teased, he was teasing him at a moment like this, Q wanted to wring his neck.

“ _Shut up Bond_. Can you be serious for one second!”

“But you’re just so fun to rile up.” Bond joked and Q had a horrible feeling from the way his little red dot was moving that he had already finished his homemade explosive.

“Bond, if you set that off the bloody building is going to come down around you, then we don’t have you or the flaming disk anymore. You’re more valuable to us than a _disk_ for Christ sake!” Q didn’t even realise he was shouting, but he did realise just how panicked he sounded. He hadn’t expected to panic, he had always known what Bond was, that what he did was dangerous. He hadn’t felt this way about it before, he guessed it hadn’t been this immediate before.

“I’ll see you in a few days Q.”

“Bond don’t you dare!” Q yelled, but the line was already dead earpiece crunched under boot. Not even a minute later the tracker also went dark.

Q felt like he was going to be sick.

It was like there was a dead weight on his chest, constricting everything until it hurt and all he could feel was a single sense of dread.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos mean the world, and I actually have the next chapter planned already so it shouldn't be long <3


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Q was, surprisingly, unaccustomed to the feeling of panic, it made him wonder if that was what he was feeling right now. Staring somewhat blankly at where all of Bond’s trackers and monitors had just gone dark, acutely aware of the fact that he would now have no idea if Bond actually did die. He felt a weight pressing down on his chest and his stomach was winding itself into tight knots as he watched the point where Bond’s little red dot had been.  

Q was a little baffled by his own reaction. It wasn’t like this was the first time Bond had done this, more like the fifth; and that was only since Q had been there, god only knows how many times he had done it before Q had arrived. And Q had certainly never had this reaction before, usually he just sighed and went back to whatever he was doing with a moderately disgruntled expression.

And yet here he was, trapped somewhere between panic and a strange numbness and unable to stop staring at the place where the little red dot indicating Bond’s whereabouts and health used to be. 

Perhaps it was because previously Bond’s little disappearing acts hadn’t happened directly before he tried to pull off some suicidal stunt. Perhaps it was because no matter how he wracked his brain Q really could not see how Bond was intending to survive bringing a building down around himself. Perhaps it was because they were apparently friends now – but, they’d been friends before hadn’t they, Q just hadn’t realised it yet.

Usually Q felt nothing but angry when Bond pulled stunts like this, as it was, this time he wasn’t sure if he was going to be sick or not.

Q was unsure how long he had stood there looking a little dumbly at a now-blank computer screen, but eventually someone gave him a light shake on the shoulder and brought him back to the present.

“You should go home Q.” M sighed, and Q supposed they had dragged him out of bed for this, it was barely six am. Still, Q was having trouble making his feet move, and he knew there was very little chance of him being able to get to sleep, so he might as well stay.

“I’m fine.” Q said, though his voice sounded slightly odd and distant, even to his own ears. Regardless he started to drift over to his work station, feeling the need to put his mind to something.

“Look, Q,” M started, stopping him from moving away and back to his station, “it wasn’t really a suggestion. Bond’s probably alive, god knows he’s got a knack for it, but you should probably take a few days. You’re no use to us distracted and half out of your mind with worry. So I’ll repeat myself, you should go home.”

“What.” Q snapped, his voice was sharper than he had intended it to be, but he could feel his annoyance rising. The suggestion that Bond being a prized idiot somehow meat he was unable to do his job was ludicrous and frankly didn’t make a damn bit of sense. “I can assure you that I am more than capable of doing my job, regardless of Bond’s bull-headed behaviour.”

Q was trying his best not to let his growing ire at the situation show on his face but he could hardly help it as he looked around the assembled people in the room to be faced with far too many looks of concern and thinly veiled pity; Q half-expected some of them to start coming out with their condolences for heaven’s sake. Moneypenny was a complete turncoat, but at least she looked at least a little wary of him and his no doubt now rather pissed off expression.

“Q, be serious, we understand that you and – ” M began, Q cutting him off before he could finish that thought aloud.

“Whatever it is you think you understand, I can assure you, you’ve got the wrong idea.” Q was fairly sure he said something at the start about not becoming a piece of office gossip; clearly that had failed entirely. _Spies_.

“Fine then.” M appeared to relent, but his jaw was set in a firm line. “You’ve not taken any holiday since you started working here. Take it now.”  

If Q hadn’t been angry with Bond before, he bloody was now.

“Sir! Really I am _fine_.”

“Nothing about this is a discussion. You’re my subordinate and I’m telling you to take your holiday. Take all of your holiday; Moneypenny, how much does Q have saved up?”

“A fortnight sir.” Moneypenny answered, though she had the good grace to look a little guilty.

“Fine. Q you’re taking at least ten days holiday. Now go home.”

Q found himself regretting that he hadn’t just agreed to it when M had said ‘a few days’. _Ten days_ , it was ridiculous. He had about seven projects going as well as everything that was still only in the developmental stages and he hadn’t had a chance to implement his new and improved security system into the bunker yet.

“With respect this is a complete over-reaction M, I have projects! I have – ”

“Your hands are shaking Q. Go home.” Mallory said with a note of finality before walking out, Moneypenny hot on his heels.

Q hadn’t realised his hands were still shaking. Everyone was probably thinking he was still panicking about Bond, but he wasn’t, it was just the anger. Not that anger had ever made him shake before. Anger and overtiredness, yes, that was what it had to be.

He huffed to himself as he switched off his computers, slipping his personal laptop into his bag and doing his best not to actually storm out of the room because he was a grown adult and therefore better than that. Though he may have slammed the door a little hard on the way out. 

Q ignored the driver that was under orders to take him home and headed for the closest tube station; he’d had quite enough of MI6 and everyone involved with it for one day. The tube housed its usual eclectic mix of six am people – the poor souls already headed into work and the night owls only just heading home, along with the standard shady customers that always lurked on the underground in the early morning.

Q spent most of the journey holding on to his laptop and attempting to will away anyone who might attempt to steal it. Not that they would be able to hack their way into it – Q estimated there were a grand total of three people in the world who could manage that, himself being one of them – but it would still be an extreme inconvenience.

Thankfully Q’s entire trip home was free of any attempted muggings, either because of his still fantastically pissed off expression or because there were no laptop thieves in the area – it was difficult to be certain which.

Q was still reeling by the time he reached his flat, throwing himself onto his sofa with an angry huff that no one but his cats could hear. Archimedes and Tesla came and sat on his back where he was face-planted into the sofa like a dramatic school child (but what did it matter really, no one could see him), and it did brighten his mood a little. But then he remembered that the sofa he was currently face deep in had been a gift from the agent who was currently responsible for his ten-day exile from work. Needless to say he remembered all the reasons why he was so pissed off.

He never should have started this thing with Bond, this thing that was supposed to be no-strings and completely casual and _was_ as far as Q or Bond was concerned. But for some reason all of his co-workers – including his _boss_ – had decided that they knew better. He should just call it off with Bond, when he finally showed up again Q should end it so that his private life was no longer the subject of office interest.

He honestly couldn’t think of a single reason why he shouldn’t end it. Except for the fact that he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to examine the fact that he didn’t want to right now.

Or ever.

It must just be because the sex is so good.

This was of course all pointless to think about anyway when the main problem may well be not just when Bond would get back, but _if_. That thought left Q feeling like he was going to be sick, and he was pretty sure that if he’d had anything other than tea since he got up, he probably would have been.

 _Stupid stupid stupid!_ How Bond could be so stupid! Q had known that Bond had a self-sacrificing streak a mile wide, not to mention some serious issues with failure (what he considered failure anyway), but Q hadn’t realised that Bond would actually attempt to survive bringing a building down around him. Bond often managed to somehow survive stunts that should end in certain death, but that really didn’t mean he _always_ would. One day he wasn’t going to walk out of it, but until he didn’t Q was pretty sure Bond would keep doing it.

 _Idiot_. Didn’t he realise that MI6 still needed him? That he was more important than one single lousy mission; so what if he didn’t complete this one, he would finish the job another time and do a hundred other in the meantime. Didn’t Bond realise how much he was worth? Didn’t he realise that he had friends that were worried about him? Didn’t Bond realise that Q cared abou–

Q swallowed that thought when it came unbidden into his railing mind. It was true though. Q absolutely did _care_. He cared that Bond came home in one piece. But that was normal, Q cared about all of his friends, and if the twisting in his stomach was trying to tell him something different then Q stoically ignored it.

In the end Q wound up putting on a random tv channel and attempting to shut up his own brain (not easily done) and solemnly swore to himself not to do anything work-related on his laptop while he was in forced exile; if they were going to insist on him not being there then they could go without the fruits of his labour for ten days as well.

Q remained on his sofa tragically not unconscious (he had known he was never getting back to sleep today) but pretty switched off to the world. Sort of like a computer in rest mode. He was eventually jolted out of it at around three pm by his phone ringing. Moneypenny. Q considered not answering, but he knew that would only lead to her turning up on his doorstep definitely within an hour, probably within half an hour.

“Moneypenny.” Q answered, his tone clipped but at least he didn’t sound too petulant.

“I’m surprised you actually answered.”

“We both know if I didn’t you’d just turn up here instead.”

“You know me so well.”

“What do you want Eve?” Q asked, sighing and scrubbing a hand across his face, leaving his glasses skewed funnily over his face.

“Just making sure you haven’t boarded a plane to Siberia.”

“I don’t need you checking in on me.” Q could feel himself getting irate at the whole situation again, maybe he’d spend his ten days of banishment doing some yoga and trying to find zen. Only he knew that the minute he saw Bond again he’d want to punch his stupid perfect face so all his meditative stretching would have been for nothing. 

“I know. And you know I’m going to do it anyway.”

“Eve I am _fine_. Just because everyone at MI6 seems to have decided I’m some swooning Victorian heroine who can’t function until the love of her life is safely returned to her doesn’t mean I am one. You really should know me better than that by now.” Q huffed, glaring at somewhere in the middle distance as Eve was not there to glare at physically. “And Bond is _not_ the love of my life.” Q then added, albeit a little belatedly.

“It’s okay, you know.” Eve began slowly, sounding like she was trying not to spook a deer. “You’ve both been different lately, no one is going to think – ”

“No one is going to think _anything_ Eve, because there is _nothing_ to think. And the sooner people realise that the better because then I can get back to work.” Q did not snap at her, because if he did he would have received an epic scolding, but it was about as close as he would dare get to snapping.

He also wondered if he said it enough he might start to completely believe it himself.

“Whatever helps your peace of mind Q. I’ll be checking in again tomorrow, don’t board any planes to Siberia between now and then.” Eve finished, voice sing-song-sweet, teasing even though they both knew she meant it. As if Q would ever chase Bond to Siberia. What would he even _do_ when he got there? Ignore the local authorities and sift through a pile of rubble singlehandedly? Not bloody likely.

So Q wiled away the rest of the day doing productive things like playing Tetris and watching _Flog It_ before forcing himself to go to sleep, failing, and playing Tetris in bed instead. Eve did indeed check in the next day, and the next day, and the next day, even though she was a traitor Q almost wanted her to show up in person just to alleviate the boredom.

By the end of the week he was pretty sure his cats were well and truly tired of his presence, and they still had four more days of it to endure. He still wasn’t sleeping properly – though he was attributing that to not doing anything throughout the day to actually warrant being tired – and he had been constantly coming up with things to occupy himself with (yesterday it had been baking, who knew cookies were so hard to make? Tuesday had been knitting, he’d been rather good at that) – which he maintained both to himself and Eve was too keep his mind off how angry he was at everyone, not off the fact that Bond still hadn’t reappeared.

He almost had himself convinced, if not Moneypenny.   

Due to the lack of actual sleep he was getting, the clattering around in his flat he could hear that night didn’t wake him up, but it did make him hide under the covers like a child with a monster under the bed, before his head unfuzzed he realised he had a pretty good idea _who_ exactly would be clattering around his flat a three am – _why was it always three am?!_.

The Q was just angry. He could feel it rising in his blood as he claimed out of bed until angry just didn’t quite cut it anymore; he was absolutely _incensed_.

How _dare_ Bond just show up here after almost a week of letting them think he might be dead, how dare he already be presumptuously rifling around in Q’s cupboards like everything was fine and how dare he wake up Q’s cats like this!

 _And how dare he let Q worry like he had been for no reason_.

Q was livid by the time he wrenched open his bedroom door and stormed out to look for the agent. The rage shrivelled up pretty quickly when he saw him.

Q had seen Bond beaten bloody before, but this was different, though Q found it hard to put his finger on why. Most of the new lacerations on his body were recent but not fresh, not actively bleeding but barely begun to heal, and whatever it had taken for Bond to get from Siberia back to London hadn’t left him with time to clean any of them from the looks of it. His shirt, a shirt Q knew had been white once, was soaked with stains and crusted with old dried blood, so much it couldn’t have just been Bond’s. Unbuttoned and hanging off his shoulders Q could see how badly his torso was riddled with cuts and bruises, though luckily there didn’t seem to be any bullet wounds. He was holding his left shoulder at a funny angle; recently dislocated, Q noted absently, feeling sick to his stomach.

But none of that was what really concerned Q, he’d seen Bond scraped up and bleeding before, but he’d never seen him like _this_ before. Stumbling around Q’s bathroom as if he were drunk, though Q knew he wasn’t, grabbing at and discarding things like he had no idea what he was even looking for, and all with a slightly manic, unbalanced look in his eyes as he failed to focus on any one thing.

Q wondered if this was normal for Bond, if he just didn’t let people see it usually.

Anger dried up and replaced with nothing but stark worry Q walked over to his bathroom, Bond tripping over his own feet as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and just barely relaxing as he noticed it was Q.

Q didn’t say anything, he wasn’t going to ask what had happened until Bond seemed a little saner and there didn’t seem to be anything else to ask. He wasn’t going to ask if he was okay when the answer was clearly _no_ but the only verbal response he was ever going to receive from Bond for that question would be _yes_. He didn’t want to make Bond think he needed to pretend to be alright right now, Q felt like he was being trusted with something vulnerable.

Bond sat on the closed lid of the toilet as Q directed him onto it. Q took out his first aid kit and only then realised that he had not only restocked but expanded it from last time, he hadn’t even thought about it when he had bought it, though now he realised he must have done it for Bond, for the possibility of this exact eventuality. Giving in and promising to patch Bond up if he asked with his actions if not his words.

Q stripped off bond’s shirt and left it on the floor to be put straight in the bin when he was done, he didn’t complain about his aversion to exactly this kind of thing as he cleaned up Bond’s cuts as Bond sat quietly, not even flinching as Q dabbed at them with the medical alcohol he now kept. Q skirted around the deep one on Bond’s left pectoral before finally cleaning it out as best he could, Bond still didn’t flinch. Q worried at his lip looking at the deep tear, too deep for comfort really.

“I think this one needs stitches.” Q murmured more quietly than he had actively intended. “Do you want me to?” Q asked, voice still quiet, Bond nodded.

Q hated doing this, he had nothing to numb the area (not that Bond seemed to require it) and the action of sewing up someone’s skin frankly made him want to gag. Any other time Q would be bitching and complaining to Bond the whole way through, but this time he just got on with it, trying not to be unnerved by the close and unflinching way Bond was watching him.

Q finished the stitches with no flourish, though they at least looked fairly sturdy, but what was one more scar when you had so many already?

“Your shoulder, if it’s still dislocated…”Q trailed off, he wasn’t sure if it was still dislocated, and he had no idea how to pop a shoulder back in anyway. Bond shook his head anyway, which Q took to mean it wasn’t dislocated anymore, could just use a doctor.

Q went back over the cuts he had already done, making sure he hadn’t missed any obvious grit or dirt before finding some gauze and wrapping it around Bond’s chest, covering the stitched up gash on his chest as best he could, trying not to squirm under Bond’s still-unflinching eyes. With Bond cleaned up as best Q could manage in his bathroom it was harder to ignore the heavy way Bond was looking at him, so Q reached for something to say to fill the silence.

“I can try and find you a shirt if – ”

Q’s words were lost as Bond surged up from where he was sitting, capturing Q’s lips in a devouring kiss as strong, battered arms encircled him, pulling Q’s much smaller body close until they were pressed together. Bond’s hands were grouping him all over, like the usually so put-together lover had no idea where he wanted to touch first and the kiss between them was rough and biting, Q’s bottom lip being abused by Bond’s teeth whenever he wasn’t fucking his tongue straight in Q’s mouth.

 As Bond’s mouth left his to abuse his neck instead Q could feel how hard Bond already was against his hip, running his own hands carefully up Bond’s back and into his hair, dragging his fingers through the short blonde hair there.

“I, I need – ” Bond managed, hands slipping down the back of Q’s pyjama pants and squeezing his arse, breathing into Q’s neck and apparently still not quite verbal. 

“Yeah. Okay.” Q replied, already breathless from Bond’s sloppy ministrations, this was easier for Q than intimate silences and caring actions, he knew how to have sex with Bond, it was familiar ground and wasn’t make his chest clench, stomach twist and head hurt.

Q expected Bond to push him towards the bedroom given his state, leaving him squealing as he was unexpectedly scooped off the floor and pressed back against the bathroom wall, Bond chuckled into his neck at the noise and Q was only glad to finally hear a familiar and comforting sound from the agent.

“Your shoulder.” Q protested, the last thing he wanted was to make Bond’s injuries worse, but Bond did even seem to hear him as he went back to kissing Q ruthlessly.

There was something frenzied about it this time that there hadn’t been before, Q guessed Bond was still high on near-death-experience adrenalin and needed a release, one Q was happy to be able to give him. Being manhandled had always turned Q on anyway. Q moaned loudly as Bond rubbed his cock through his pyjamas with no warning, the wall and his right arm supporting Q’s weight, leaving Q bucking into his touch as Bond pushed his clothes out of the way and got a hand around him.

As quickly as it had started Q was deposited back on the floor and for a moment he thought they had already managed to hurt Bond’s shoulder further – or rip his stitches – but then all Bond was doing was shoving his pyjamas and pants out of the way and opening the bathroom cabinet to find some lube and condoms. Q kicked off his pyjamas and underwear just in time to be lifted back up and pressed against the wall again, Bond encouraging him to lock his legs around his hips (not that Q needed much encouragement).

Bond sucked and nipped at Q’s collarbone as his right hand pressed slick fingers against Q’s arse. There was no teasing this time, no drawn out foreplay and Q moaned out embarrassingly loudly as Bond pressed in his second finger barely behind the first. Bond paused for scarcely a second as he presumably ascertained that the whining and thrashing was most certainly the _good_ kind, smirking and scissoring Q open unrelentingly, wasting no time before pressing a third finger in, toeing the perfect line between pleasure and pain.

Bond was assaulting his sweet spot and Q was letting out a never ending litany of moans, pants and _yeses_ while his hands scrabbled between them and somehow managed to unhook Bond’s belt and trousers. Grabbing wildly for the condoms and lube that Q somehow managed not to drop as he rolled a condom on and slicked up Bond’s cock, feeling extremely proud as the agent groaned and bucked his hips into Q’s clumsy hand.

“Come on.” Q urged, wrapping his hands back around Bond’s neck, being as careful as he could of his shoulder in his current debauched state and rutting his hips down onto Bond’s hand.

Bond apparently didn’t need to be told twice and in just a few moments his fingers were gone and in their place the tip of his thick cock was nudging at Q’s stretched entrance.

“Okay?” Bond asked, the thoughtfulness of it juxtaposed how frantic they had been up to that point and sent that and tugged strangely at Q’s chest.

“Yeah.” Q had wanted to answer with snark, but it didn’t seem to belong between them right now, with whatever Bond was working (fucking?) out of his system here.

Bond swallowed Q’s shout of delight with another searing kiss as he driving himself into the hilt without preamble, not bothering to wait even a moment before he started building up an unforgiving rhythm, fucking into Q hard and fast and slamming him against the wall with every brutal thrust of his hips, already hitting Q’s prostate every time and assaulting Q’s every sense in the best way possible.

Q felt like he was thrown to the edge of orgasm before his body had even really realised what was happening to it, his nails were digging into Bond’s skin and he was wailing so loud he knew his neighbours would be complaining. Bond was fucking him so hard the mirror looked like it was about to fall off the wall – something Q would have found funny if he wasn’t too busy being pounded to an inch of his life.

Having lost his his cognitive ability to do more than shout _yesBondmoreplease_ the moment Bond had sunk into him and started fucking him the way Q _really_ wanted to be fucked, meant that when Bond’s mouth somehow managed to find its way to Q’s nipples the extra sensation short-circuited his brain completely and Q melted into a puddle of pleasure in Bond’s hands, knowing he was going to have bruises on his back and arse as Bond slammed him against the wall again and again and just not caring about anything but _more_.

It only took Bond sucking and grazing his teeth over Q oversensitive – there was honestly no part of him that wasn’t oversensitive at that moment – before Q was coming hard between them, all but keening out something that might have been _Bond!_ As he shuddered against the wall.

Despite the crazed and rough fucking Bond had been giving him he immediately began to gentle off as Q came, Q forcing an eye open to see Bond looking as if he was unsure if he should continue as he had been or if it would be too much for Q. Bond’s thoughtfulness during sex (even frantic desperate sex) would probably never stop catching him off-guard.

“Keep going.” Q panted, voice sounding ragged and well-fucked, making the effort to squeeze his arse around Bond’s cock in encouragement. “I want you to.” Q reassured, which was all it took for Bond to start fucking into him at that punishing pace again, Q resembling a rage doll in his arms, letting out little _ahs_ as his oversensitive body continued to be pounded into.

Q found the energy to get his hands back in Bond’s short hair and drag his mouth back to his own, kissing him sloppily as Bond’s thrusts grew increasingly erratic before finally groaning loudly and coming hard inside Q as he bit down on the agent’s lower lip.

They stayed tangled together panting for a while, Bond carefully having lowered Q back to the floor to stand on a pair of very shaky legs. Somehow – likely simply a need to sit on something (something comfortable) – the migrated to the sofa where they absolutely didn’t cuddle. There just was not a huge amount of room for too tall adults to stretch out on, so when Bond tugged at Q in a silent request to snuggle down on his chest Q justified it as utilising the space available. Q was also able to use the position to surreptitiously check that his stitched where fine.

Despite Bond’s hand stroking soothingly down his back, Q didn’t fall asleep, too paranoid about all of Bond’s injuries and making them worse by rolling onto them as he slept. It would be a miracle if they hadn’t made them worse with their incredibly enthusiastic fucking. But eventually Bond’s hand stopped petting at Q’s back and he was certain the agent was fast asleep. Practically comatose from the steady deep way he was breathing. Q decided not to think about what it meant that Bond could fall asleep so deeply with him, or how it made Q feel. That way madness lay.

Instead Q gently got up off the sofa, proving just how knocked out Bond was from the way he didn’t even stir. The thought of waking Bond up to kick him out of the house didn’t even occur to Q, instead he grabbed a warm blanket out of the airing cupboard and laid it over the sleeping agent without even thinking about it, smiling softly as Tesla and Archimedes curled up on the sofa with Bond before finally retreating to the bedroom and sinking down into his bed.

He ignored the fact that he sort of missed the feeling of Bond’s arms around him as he fell asleep.

When Q woke again light was streaming in through the window and after finding his glasses he discovered that it was almost midday. To be fair he had been woken at three am – _always three bloody am_ – for some very vigorous activities. And some emotionally trying first-aiding but Q wasn’t thinking about that.

Q dragged himself out of bed, revelling in the delicious ache in his backside and finding some clothes for the day. While dressing Q realised that Bond had marked him up well last night, but either by luck or design they were all easily below his collar, so he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed.

Emerging from the bathroom and wandering out into the living room Q was not surprised to see Bond still fast asleep on the sofa, the cats still fast asleep on him. Q migrated quietly past and into the kitchen, where he started on a fry up for breakfast – though at this point it was going to be lunch for the two of them.

About fifteen minutes later, when the smell of bacon began to permeate the air and the sounds of various frying pans got louder the cats appeared, slinking around his feet and demanding their own food as well. Q had just returned to stirring the beans when Bond appeared in the archway, rather bizarrely looking sheepish and somewhat awkward, it was a look which was unnervingly incongruous with his usual demeanour.

“Sorry, I uh, I know you like me to be gone in the mornings, but I just passed out completely.” Bond apologised, it took Q a few minutes to realise what he was saying, it hadn’t even occurred to Q that Bond would think he had to leave, last night had obviously been special circumstances.

“What? Oh, no, don’t worry about it.” Q shrugged, grabbing two plates and serving up the food. “Apparently I made you lunch. And it would be rude to refuse now.”

“A gracious host? I never would have guessed.” Bond teased, Q relieved to be back on their usual footing but giving Bond a scowl for good measure first.

“Shut up Bond. Do you want some clothes?” Q asked a little belatedly, his shirt was still on the bathroom floor waiting to be thrown in the bin and his trousers were looking a lot worse for wear.

Q didn’t bother waiting for a reply, deciding that ‘no’ would be an unacceptable answer anyway, traipsing off into his bedroom to find some clothes Matt had left and never collected, they had a better chance of fitting Bond than his own stuff did. Bond raised an eyebrow at the size which was clearly not Q’s own before slipping them on, not bothering to retreat to the bathroom to change his trousers into Matt’s old sweatpants – but then, why bother at this point?

“How is your…everything?” Q asked, gesturing at the whole of him when he was unable to come to a conclusion if he was more worried about his shoulder, chest or general mental state.

“Good as knew thanks to you.” Bond smirked that tried and tested smirk of his, the one that was meant to boast his swagger and confidence without even trying, which was why it surprised Q that this time he saw straight through it. It did not surprise him that he didn’t really have any idea how to then respond to it, but the silence that stretched out between them was long enough for Bond to realise that he hadn’t bought it for a second.

“You can stay here, if you want to stay clear of the office for a little while.” Q eventually said, aiming for casual and hopefully not missing it by too much, Bond looked surprised by the offer.

“I shouldn’t impose.” Bond replied, making Q snort loudly.

“Do you ever do anything else?” Q asked, leaving them sharing a grin in an odd moment of comradery before Q said more quietly and far more firmly; “stay a while.”

And quite surprisingly, he did. Though they never really acknowledged it; Bond stayed. He fed the cats and teased Q and read the paper and it was weird because it wasn’t weird. And that was freaking Q out, though he was good at ignoring it when Bond was right there with him – he was very distracting after all. Bond didn’t migrate to the bed, which was one thing, but Q did end up falling asleep on the sofa with him on one night which was another thing entirely.

On day three Bond told Q about what had happened on the mission, that he’d been attacked and disabled before he could even set off the bomb (Q gave him a good scolding for even intending to do it in the first place, Bond had the good grace to look guilty) and it had taken him days to get out of their clutches and stow away back to England. Q also discovered that apparently the invaluable disk Bond had been after in his mission was sat in his trouser pocket (‘for fuck sake Bond I almost put them in the wash this morning you should have said earlier!”). At one point Q remembered he was supposed to be annoyed at Bond for getting him kicked out of work for ten days, but he ended up not mentioning it, lest Bond suggest something rational, like they _stop_.

The days passed and Q tried not to think about how easily domestic they were together in his flat. They cooked dinner together – who knew Bond could cook? – and Bond told him his cookies from the other day were disgusting and to just buy them in the future – Q told him he was rude and could no longer eat food out of his fridge. Bond even did the food shopping when they ran out on Thursday night, they were doing the crossword in the paper together for Christ sake (they were excellent at it).

Q didn’t even realise it had been eleven days since his ten-day mandatory holiday had started until Eve mentioned it on the phone and triggered Q’s long over-due crisis over what the bloody hell they were doing.

(He settled on helping a friend, he was just helping a friend. Though he lied and told Eve he had gotten into a personal project that was making him lose track of time. He had no idea if she bought it or not, but he’d get into trouble if they found out he’d been harbouring the still-officially-missing-Bond for five days.)

Freshly freaking out and knowing he needed to go into work tomorrow Q jokingly kicked Bond out of his house that afternoon, telling him it was time to get back to reality. Q tried not to think about why he’d found the need to give Bond a parting blowie – which Bond of course insisted on returning and turning Q into goo once again – but he knew without trying to think about it that at least part of the reason he had was because kicking Bond out after sex was par for the course, kicking Bond out after five days of playing house was _not_.

Q still maintained he was not foolish enough to get involved with Bond, but he decided not to tell Eve what had happened either.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you're still enjoying it! <3


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

“You were with him weren’t you.” Moneypenny’s words were not a question, Q worked tremendously hard to not give anything away, though he couldn’t help the slight falter in his movement before continuing on the gun he was developing.

“Who?” Q feigned ignorance, he probably would have pulled it off if he didn’t work with a bunch of spies.

“Don’t give me that. You know very well _who_.” Eve had her hands on her hips and was attempting to stare Q down, which was why Q was actively avoiding eye-contact right now.

 “No, I really don’t.” Q went for absently curious that time, as if most of his attention was on the tech in front of him and not holding his breath for how this conversation was going to play out.

“Oh? So it’s complete coincidence that you turn up a day later than your imposed exile demands, which also happens to be the same time that Bond finally returns.”

“So Bond only just got back, how could I have been with him if he only just stumbled his way back into the bunker.”

“We all know that Bond never comes straight back here.” Eve reminded him, which Q knew absently he supposed, always having suspected that Bond went somewhere to unwind and get laid after a mission.

“Does he?” Idly, as if he couldn’t care less.

“Well. He _used_ to go drink himself into a stupor then sleep it off.” Moneypenny told him and that Q had not known, he couldn’t help the way his head snapped around to look at her, effectively giving himself away. But Moneypenny didn’t look smug to have caught him out, only concerned. “But I don’t think that’s what he does any more, is it Q.”

“I thought he just always went to find someone to wind-down with, screw away all that excess adrenalin.” Q responded a little weakly, Moneypenny turned a stern look on him now.

“You think Bond let’s just _whoever_ see him like I’m pretty sure you did. You think he lets anyone in on that vulnerability except the bottom of a bottle and now apparently, you.”

“How do you know about it, if he never shares it with anyone.” Q asked, effectively giving himself away before he realised it, not that it mattered, Eve had clearly known somehow anyway.

“Because despite his best attempts to make us think otherwise, he’s only human. M, the old M, she seemed to know and would have me keep tabs on him from a distance when he inevitably crawled back into the country. She knew him well, always knew where he would show up first when he reappeared; always the same off licence near his flat or one of about four pubs. For all his training Bond is dreadfully predictable when he does make it back, almost like at that point he stops caring. We still monitor those places for Bond’s return, but this time we didn’t see sight of him until he walked through that door this morning. So you tell me, where’s he been?”

That was a lot of new information and Q was suddenly shocked to realise he had never known any of that. That there were only a few people M decided to let in on that little titbit, maybe it was only Eve and M who knew about it. But Q hadn’t known that, he had just assumed Bond showing up in his flat was because he was now the simplest in a long line of casual fucks because there were the least questions that needed asking.

Q was being forced to revaluate that now.

“You know. I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me before.” Eve said and Q instantly felt awful, because she was right, he hadn’t.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t need a sorry. But I would like to know why this of all things was what you didn’t want to tell me.”

“Because everyone here is blowing this thing between me and Bond way out of proportion. We’re just friends.” Q said, though even to his own ears he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or Eve more.

“I’m not going to tell you what you are to each other, but I think you need to take a step back and make sure you’re right, or one of you is going to get hurt.” Eve told him, squeezing his arm before turning to go.

“I’m not stupid enough to go breaking my heart over Bond.” Q said, willing himself to believe it. Eve stopped and turned back to him.

“It wasn’t necessarily you that I was talking about.” And then she left Q-Branch, leaving Q feeling like his world had just been tilted on its axis.

It wasn’t something Q had ever even considered. And now that the idea had been put in his head it needled at him constantly. He was so distracted by it that he ended up wiring one of the new self-firing weapons wrong and it almost shot at him.

After that Q berated himself, nearly getting shot by one’s own invention serving as a good reminder that Q-Branch was not the place for such distractions. Q forced the thoughts out of his head almost violently and focussed fully on what was in front of him, lest it try to shoot him again.

There was plenty of work to immerse himself in, especially considering he was completely blindsided by being told that there was apparently going to be a merger soon. So not only were people trying to move out of the bunker and into the new building (Q far preferred the bunker) but he was also now facing having to deal with new people interfering with his work.

By the afternoon Q had moved on from the guns and back on to the newly invented tracer that would go straight into Bond’s bloodstream. He was almost finished with it actually, just the final tweaks to go. But as it required him to have his eyed jammed down a microscope most of the time, he didn’t notice Bond sauntering into Q branch until a hand was placed on the small of his back and his jumped in fright.

“Don’t _do_ that.” Q bitched, slapping Bond in the shoulder and belatedly hoping that it wasn’t the recently dislocated one, Bond only grinned anyway.

“Just wanted to see what you’re working on.” Bond told him, Q almost believed it, before he got distracted by the hand still on the small of his back and the thumb that had sneaked under his jumper and was rubbing back and forth against his skin.

Before Moneypenny and her bombshell, Q would have written it off as Bond deliberately trying to irritate him, and Q had no doubt that was part of it, only now Q found it harder to ignore the affection in that gesture too.

“Get off me.” Q grumbled, attempting to shake off both Bond’s hand and the new perspective that crept around his thoughts.

“Just being friendly.” Bond smirked, but he let his hand drop away.

“Go be friendly with someone else.” Q complained, only realising after the words had left his mouth that he really didn’t want Bond to go and do that.

“You wound me Q.” Bond said, laying his hands over his heart in mock hurt.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Q grumbled, taking a gulp of his tea and trying to ignore the fondness in Bond’s eyes.

“Anyone would think you don’t want me here.” Bond grinned again, knowing he was being deliberately annoying as he picked up a half-wired motherboard from Q’s desk no doubt knowing that Q would confiscate it right away. Q felt vividly like a school child having his pigtails pulled.

“I _don’t_.” After he had said it Q was suddenly very aware of how much of a lie it was, it made him uncomfortable. “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on Bond.” He then sighed, that at least was true.

“Still refusing to call me James?” Bond smiled, but there was something else there, something Q couldn’t identify just yet.

 _Will you call me James?_ Bond had asked him lots of times during their five days playing house, ever since that first time he’d been asking Q to call him James, and every single time Q denied him. He’d reduced it to almost meaningless in his head, something Bond wheedled at Q for simply because it was one of the few things denied to him, but now Q wondered if that was all there was to it. He’d never actually stopped to consider the fact that Bond might genuinely want Q to call him James.

It still felt odd to Q, calling Bond James, though admittedly not as strange as it used to. He had been refusing because it had felt like some kind of joke between them, now Q wasn’t so sure that was all there was to it after all.

“We’re at work.”

“You refuse to call me James regardless of setting.” Bond pointed out, fiddling again with things on Q’s desk, but they weren’t that important and Bond seemed to be genuinely curious this time, so Q let him.

“Then why continue asking.” Q countered, looking for something in Bond that might answer all his knew questions without actually having to ask.

“Ever the optimist, I live in hope.” Bond joked, Q wondered for the first time if there was a lick of truth under that joke, did Bond actually hope Q would start calling him James?

But _why_?

Q shook the thoughts away and rolled his eyes at Bond instead.

“Well go live in hope somewhere else.” Q shooed him, and this time Bond did go.

“I’ll see you later Q.” Bond told him as he left and Q rolled his eyes again, even though he found himself hoping that he did.

Q immersed himself in his work and Bond didn’t reappear, though Q heard someone saying that he’d been dragged down to the infirmary again – the again suggesting that he kept escaping it, that had probably been where he was supposed to be when he’s appeared in Q-Branch the first time.

It was easy enough to lose himself in his work given how much of it had built up over his eleven-day absence from Q-Branch, he’d be dealing with a backlog for quite a few days. M was also now really pressing him to get the new tracer done after Bond’s latest disappearing act, Q had managed to bite his tongue form pointing out that it would probably be done by now if M hadn’t exiled him from his lab.

He was working overtime again, he always seemed to end up working overtime, did he even get paid for overtime? Q had no idea. He wasn’t entirely sure why they bothered to give him set hours they were disrupted so often   . Everyone else was gone from Q-Branch, it was edging on midnight, meaning he’d been working for almost sixteen hours. Unsurprisingly he was exhausted, but still he scrubbed the tiredness out of his eyes as best he could and went back to the microscope.

But then for the second time that day he was startled by the same hand on the small of his back, pulling himself away from the microscope.

“I thought I told you not to do that.” Q said, there was less bite in it then there might have been in the past.

Bond was actually wearing a sling on his left arm, presumably to help his shoulder heal, Q thought the doctors were being a bit hopeful thinking Bond was going to keep that on after leaving the building.

“Maybe I just like making you jump.” Bond smirked that smirk of his.

“Maybe you’re just an asshole.” Q grumbled, but he somehow managed to do it with enough fondness leaking into his voice that it made Bond smile. “The infirmary patched you up?” Q asked, which was an indirect way of asking if he’d ruined Bond’s torso with his horrible stitches or if they’d completely destroyed his shoulder with all the sex they had.

“The vultures only just let me go, something about ‘aggravating my injuries’, they admired the stitches though.”

“I’m sure by admired you mean ‘can’t actually fathom why you would rather let someone with no medical skills sew your skin together instead of professionals’.”

“Now Q I’m sure it’s not that much of a mystery why I’d rather have you hands all over me.” Bond winked and Q really did genuinely roll his eyes that time.

“What’re you doing here Bond?”

“I took a guess that you might still be here, even though you should have gone home hours ago.”

“I have lots of work to catch up on.”

“Catch up tomorrow. You look dead on your feet.” Bond said, his voice was soft, almost coaxing and the hand on the small of Q’s back that he hadn’t shaken off was urging him to step away from his desk.

“I supposed I could stop here.”

Bond waited patiently as Q turned off all his computers and packed away his laptop. Bond’s hand returned to Q’s back as they made their way out of the bunker and Q didn’t shake him off then either, even though he knew he should. This wasn’t what they did. They didn’t play house and leave work together. But Q didn’t stop it and Bond didn’t mention it.

Q would have happily headed to the tube to get home as he usually did, but Bond hailed them a taxi before he had much say in it and Q couldn’t be bothered to argue, all he wanted to do was sleep. Bond gave the taxi driver an address a few roads off from Q’s flat and Q was too busy appreciating the gesture that Bond noticed the smile on his face before he could school it.

He was almost asleep by the time the taxi pulled up, Bond paid the driver and wrapped an arm around Q’s waist and chuckled quietly as Q listed into him.

“You work too hard.” Bond told him as they made their way down the final two roads to Q’s flat.

“Someone’s got to keep you alive.” Q mumbled, not bothering to stifle his own yawn.

Bond smiled again, and when they reached his building he took the liberty of rummaging in Q’s pockets to find his keys and open the door.

“Why is the lift always broken?”

“S’been broken for over a year.” Q told him, muffling another yawn in Bond’s neck. “Hey!” Q yelled indignantly and groggily as Bond ditched his sling and scooped him up in his arms and starting marching up the stairs. “This is very undignified.”

“You looked about ready to fall asleep on your feet anyway.” Once again Q couldn’t be bothered to argue, a true testament to how tired he was, he’d never let Bond carry him like some damsel in distress if he wasn’t half asleep.

“Your sling.”

“I don’t need it.” Bond replied and Q snorted, of course he needed it, or he wouldn’t have been given it.

Bond set Q down when they reached the door and opened it for them both, the cats appearing and slinking around Bond’s feet as soon as he stepped inside. Q watched in a bit of a daze as Bond went into the kitchen and pulled out a tin of the cat food that Bond himself had brought for them and set it out, perfectly at home in his kitchen. Q’s thoughts felt a little like soup as he tried to actually think about how that made him feel. In the end he decided he was glad he was too tired to really know. 

Cats satisfied Bond returned to Q and nudged him towards his bedroom. A slow smile spread over Q’s face and he slung his arms around Bond’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss that was slow and sloppy because of Q’s exhaustion.

“Sleep I think Q.” Bond chided, gently pulling out of Q’s arms and corralling him the rest of the way to the bedroom.

“Spoilsport.” A pouted as he started to clumsily undress himself before padding into his bathroom in his underwear to brush his teeth and use the loo.

“What can I say, you falling asleep halfway through would be terrible for my ego.”

“It’d be good for it to go down a peg or two.” Q grumbled around his toothbrush.

“You would say that.” Bond responded and Q could hear the smile in his voice, it made his stomach flip flop in a way he was too tired to deny.

Q emerged from the bathroom, stopping in front of Bond and a swaying a little where he stood, Bond’s strong hand coming up to steady him.

“Sleep, Q.” He instructed and Q could only nod, crawlingly under the covers of his bed.

“You don’t have to sleep on the sofa.” Q mumbled sleepily, getting comfortable. He probably wasn’t in his right mind to even suggest it, he could always blame it on exhaustion come morning.

“What?” Bond was surprised, hesitant even, that couldn’t be right, not Bond.

Q couldn’t be bothered to speak any more and just dragged back the covers on the other side of the bed as best he could in a clear invitation. He managed to stay awake just long enough to feel the bed dip beside him and sort lips kiss his temple.

“Night Q.”

 _Night James_ was Q’s final thought before slipping completely into unconsciousness.

 

Q woke up to the rather foreign sensation of someone’s arms around him. It was something that Q had consistently berated past boyfriends for doing – ‘how am I supposed to sleep with you smothering me all night’ – but then in the past it had always woken him up in the night. Now there was light streaming through the curtains and the clock was telling him he’d woken up ten minutes before his alarm, as usual.

What was knocking Q off kilter the most this morning wasn’t so much that he had Bond’s arms around him, but that it felt…nice. Comforting, warm, wanted. Any of those words would do. Bond was in fact spooning him, something he had often sworn he would never enjoy, yet here he was, sinking back into the arms of a lightly snoring double-oh agent.

They didn’t even have sex last night, so it was not even like Q could blame their current situation on that. No matter how tired he had been Q could remember inviting Bond into the bed to sleep with him, just to sleep. This was not what they did.

Q was suddenly hit full force with the notion that Moneypenny might have been right after all. And he was starting to force himself to come to terms with the fact that Q might have been lying to himself for a while.

It was far too early in the morning for Q to attempt to deal with all that.

He didn’t want Bond to wake up and think the cuddling was weird, because if Eve was wrong (rare but it happened) then Q didn’t want Bond to think he should end it. Increasingly Q was finding that he didn’t care where this thing between them went so long as it didn’t stop. That was telling in itself really.

Q reached his bedside table and flicked off his alarm before it went off, then he turned in Bond’s arms, careful not to wake him and amazed all over again by how soundly Bond slept when he was with him. Before climbing into bed with him Bond had apparently followed suit and stripped down to his underwear ad Q couldn’t help but trace a finger gently around the steadily healing wound on Bond’s chest, the second cut on Bond that he had stitched up now.

He really did have a disgustingly perfect chest, scars and all, though Q found himself wishing he could take them away, not because of the way they looked, but because of what they must remind him of. Dragging his fingers down low on Bond’s stomach the agent shifted in his sleep and Q got a rather wicked idea about how the agent might like to be woken.

Q kissed his way down Bond’s chest, sliding down the bed as carefully as he could, though he imagined Bond would be far more graceful then he was, luckily the agent wasn’t yet awake to see Q getting tangled in the bedding. Finally settled between Bond’s legs Q was a little smug to see that a certain part of Bond’s anatomy was already stirring as he pressed wet kisses low on his toned stomach, beginning to tease around the base of his hardening cock.

Bond groaned and shifted again in his sleep, Q slid his hands up Bond’s strong thighs to hold them in place as best he could and ran his tongue up Bond’s cock from base to tip before wrapping his lips around the head. He held down Bond’s hips and worked his mouth around the thick cock in his mouth, sucking hard as his head drew up and taking him in a little further each time, tongue tracing the throbbing vein on the underside and toying with the crown whenever he came up.

Bond’s hips bucked again and Q let him, relaxing his throat and taking his cock in as far as Bond’s hips pushed, Q could tell Bond was waking up now, hips thrusting with more intent, the rest of his body stirring too.

“Fuck, _Q_.” Bond gasped out, apparently wake enough now to realise what was happening to him.

Bond immediately stilled his hips as much as he could, ever the thoughtful lover, and Q took the opportunity to swallow him to the base, holding him in the tight channel of his throat until tears sprung to his eyes and he felt like he was going to start choking. Q backed off enough to breathe again, sucking at the head and grabbing one of Bond’s hands, burying it in his hair, encouraging him to tug on it before bobbing his head in earnest again.

“Jesus Q.” Bond groaned. “I’m not gunna last.” Bond’s voice was strained and panting and Q couldn’t help but feel a little smug that he’d managed to make the agent fall apart so quickly.

Bond’s hips started hitching forward again in aborted thrusts and Q pulled on his hips, Bond not taking long to get the message and fuck up into Q’s mouth in earnest. Q breathed through his nose and slipped one of his hands between his own legs to take hold of his own hard and neglected cock, stroking it in time with Bond’ thrusts, moaning around Bond’s cock as he touched himself.

“God Q are you – ” Bond’s words broke off into incoherent syllables as he came down Q’s throat, Q swallowing everything and working his mouth more gently over Bond, wringing the climax out of him entirely even while he continued to work his own cock.

“Come ‘ere.” Bond instructed, dragging Q up his body to lie next to him. Bond replaced Q’s hand with his own, leaving Q free to pant and whine into his shoulder as Bond did all the things he loved best – how did Bond already know all the things he loved best?

Q was close already, worked up from sucking Bond and fucking his own hand, and with the way Bond was squeezing at the head of his cock and thumbing at the slit he wasn’t going to last long either.

“You are filthy Q.” Bond growled into his ear before biting down on his earlobe and wrenching the orgasm out of Q, shooting ropes of come between them and over Bond’s hand.

They lay together panting, Q enjoying the way Bond’s fingers were trailing over his side. Bad morning breath and where Q’s mouth had just been managed not to occur to Q at all as Bond ducked his head in to share lazy morning kisses.

“I really need to get up.” Q sighed.

“Me too, I have a meeting with M this morning.” Bond muttered, he never particularly liked his meetings with Mallory.

“Get off me then you limpet. I need to shower. And so do you, you know where the towels are.” Q said, Bond trapping him to kiss him one more time before letting him up and Q was awake enough to know what the flip-flopping of his stomach meant now, even if he was still choosing not to think about it.

He did think about Bond though, about the way he was smiling at Q as he watched him climb out of bed all mussed up from sleep and sex as he padded to the bathroom. Q came out of the shower to find breakfast waiting for him and his cats fed and Bond kissing him casually before going to the shower himself.

Q was a little dazed as he ate the eggs Bond had made, poached, just liked he liked.

“I’m an idiot aren’t I.” Q mumbled, Archimedes and Tesla looked like they’d thought this for a while.

Bond reappeared a little while later in his suit from last night, Q almost opened his mouth to say he should just leave a change of clothes here, but managed to stop himself. Baby steps, he was only ready for baby steps.

“I want to tell you something.” Bond started, and Q was unsure if something good or bad was about to come out of his mouth.

“Okay?” Q answered, checking the clock, they were already running late.

“It’s about M, she left me something.”

“You mean other than the delightful dog paperweight?”

“Obviously.” Bond rolled his eyes, Q knew he hated that thing but he also appreciated M’s parting joke.

“So what was it?” Q prompted and Bond’s features grew more serious.

“A mission.” Bond answered and Q almost wanted to laugh, he hadn’t known her long, but it didn’t surprise him that she wouldn’t let a little thing like death get in the way of the job.

“What kind of mission?” Q started, before looking at the clock again. “Wait, we’re so late. Can you tell me on the move?” Q asked, knowing Bond may well only want to talk about it in the safety of Q’s flat, he was right, Bond shook his head. “Okay, this evening then, after work?”

Bond nodded and they headed out the door together, Bond’s hand back at the small of his back. It only took a small argument to get Bond to take the tube with him, Q didn’t trust taxi drivers, Bond called him paranoid, Q pointed out better paranoid than dead, Bond agreed.

No one mentioned it when they arrived together and no one mentioned it when they left together again that evening. Apparently people were finally learning to keep their mouths shut – something you’d think a bunch of spies would have been better at in the first place.

They went to Bond’s flat which was exactly how Q had imagined it, less a home and more a hotel he kept stuff in for when he wasn’t on missions. They sat down together and watched the video M had left him, instructing Bond to kill Marco Sciarra and go to the funeral.

“I’ve had it for a while. Since she died.” Bond said, Q didn’t ask why he had only just told him, they hadn’t been that close back then, not like they were now, whatever they were now.

“You’ve found him.” Q said, understanding why Bond must be bringing it up, Bond nodded in confirmation.

“I need to go to Mexico. Off the record.”

“Then what a tragedy it is that your new tracer isn’t finished yet.” Q smiled, they both knew he’d finished it that day. “You go running off all the time anyway.”

“Keep them off my tracks for a few days.”  

“Of course. But if Mallory asks I knew nothing about it.”

“Of course.”

“When are you going?”

“In the morning.” Bond said, Q tried not to feel sad that he was going so soon. “I asked for some personal days, so Mallory is already suspicious.”

“I bet.”

They left Bond’s flat, he really didn’t have enough stuff there to entertain guests very well, and they picked up a pizza on the way back to Q’s flat.

Bond fucked him in the shower and was gone by the morning. It was almost like it had been in the beginning, except breakfast was waiting for him to heat it up, the cats were fed and there was a note on the pillow:

 

_Be back in a few days, we’re out of milk_

_James_

 

Really it was nothing like it had been at the start.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos make me smile like a fool as always ^^ As you've probably guessed, Spectre is going to happen between this chapter and the next <3
> 
> Thanks again, ilyall <3
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://shadyanne.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I AM SO SORRY I AM LITERALLY THE W O R S T. Let's pretend it's not been the better part of a year since I updated this. 
> 
> if you're still reading/interested in this story then I just wanted to let you know that I love you and you are incred <3 sorry for any typo's i've not proofread because it's been ten months i wrote this literally today i just wanted to get it to you and if i read it i might hate it :')
> 
> hopefully my massive impromptu hiatus' wont happen again BUT on the bright side we're probs only two or three chapters from the end now so maybe I'll get through this before I get blocked af again

 

 

Q felt like an idiot, it was not a feeling he appreciated. At all.

It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to either, which somehow made it worse. He was always the smartest person in the room and he was never the one who misjudged a relationship. He certainly wasn’t the one that got over-invested in a relationship he  _ knew _ was casual. 

He never should have listened to Eve. 

The worst part was that Q couldn’t even find it in him to be surprised when it became clear to him what exactly Bond was doing with Dr Swann, what couldn’t exactly be justified as just ‘protection’. No, actually, the worst part was that he hadn’t be able to pretend to himself that he wasn’t hurt. He’d lied to his boss, put his job on the line, flown out to Timbuk-bloody-tu to help him and fixed up that pointless old car, all for  _ this _ . Well, for nothing, because that’s clearly what it had turned out to be in the end. What he’d insisted it had been all along. 

He put on a face at work, pretended for all the world that it didn’t bother him, that Bond was free to do whatever or whoever he wanted, which of course he was; which was, of course, the problem. But Q had grit his teeth and approached it like a level headed adult, because at the end of the day, he had  _ insisted _ to everyone who could hear, that it was only casual, there were no emotions involved, that he was aloof and detached and far too clever to fall for someone like Bond. 

Could he really blame James just for listening?

So Q had resolved, he wasn’t going to lose his head, mind or heart over what was going on with Dr Swann, she was another in a long list, Q was something else entirely. He’d wait until the mission was a success and Bond moved on from Dr Swann, then he would do the unthinkable and find the courage somewhere to actually have a conversation with Bond about how exactly he felt. And should he discover that it really had only been casual for Bond, as it always seemed to be, then Q would pick up and dust off his pride and probably do something stupid like call Matt. But at least the immediate problem would be dealt with. 

That had been his plan. His level-headed, very-sensible-adult-dealing-with-his-feelings-in-a-healthy-and-constructive-way-plan. 

Then Bond had gone and made him feel like an even bigger idiot than before. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was Bond had  _ hurt  _ him. Not on purpose, not maliciously, but somehow it felt worse than when he’d realised that he was sleeping with Dr Swann. Much worse. 

When Bond had appeared in Q branch, he’d thought Bond was there to see him, it had been weeks after all. To ask if they needed to pick up dinner before heading home, to drop a kiss on Q’s cheek in the way he’d grown used to, even to expect when no one else was around. 

Instead he’d taken the keys to the car Q had spent  _ months _ fixing for him, and taken it to sweep someone else away in. 

And it had  _ hurt _ .

That had been a few days ago, and in those few days hurt had done what it usually does and turned into anger. And now Q was seething, irregardless about whether or not he actually had any right to. He was hurt and felt like a fool and he was angry. 

Which was probably why he was stabbing at the keys on his laptop with a bit more vigour than was perhaps required. 

“Has your laptop done something to offend you?” Moneypenny asked dryly, perching herself warily on the corner of Q’s desk and tactfully not asking Q if he was okay. He’d threatened the last person to give him a pitiful look about James Bloody Bond with emailing their entire internet history to their wife. 

“No.” Q said, as clipped as he had been the last few days. He couldn’t help feeling slightly pissed off at Eve as well, after so much time of her saying how  _ obvious _ it was that they had feelings for each other, when that clearly hadn’t been the case. At least, it hadn’t been both ways. 

“Convincing.” Moneypenny replied with not a small amount of snark, Q resisted the urge to grind his teeth. 

“Can I help you with something?” Q asked with forced politeness, mostly just wanting her to leave him alone, as most people had been very good at doing these last few days. 

“Yes actually, I’m looking for my friend, he usually works here, glasses, dark hair, pale, bit of a bean pole, great sense of humor. I’ve not seen him in a while.”

“I’m really not in the mood for this right now.”

“Tough. You, me and drinks tonight.”

“I don’t want your pity.”

“Good because you don’t have it. What you do have is a concerned friend who wants to make sure you’re alright away from this place where you clearly feel like you need to save face or something.” She said, and it wasn’t a bad response. “That and I might feel slightly guilty.” She then admitted, having the good graces to look slightly sheepish at least. 

“If I agree will you leave me alone until the end of the day?”

“Of course, I actually came here to tell you M wants a rush on the pin grenades for 003, her mission has been pushed forward.”

“Fine. Tell him I’ll have them at the end of the day.”

“Great, and then we can go and drink some much needed booze together.”

“I really don’t feel like going out.” Q said, about as close to admitting weakness in this place as he was going to get.

“We’ll gorge ourselves on wine at your place then.” She conceded, sliding gracefully off his desk, heels clicking as she headed back up to M’s office. 

Q finished the grenades just before nine, which would be absurdly late for any other office, but was barely considered working late at MI6. Eve linked her arm through his and dragged him out, shoving him into the sleek black car that ferried her around, Q too drained from the last week to even bother protesting and getting the tube.

The first thing Q did when walking into his flat was kick off his shoes, the second was briefly pet his cats as they streaked past him to get to Eve, and the third was to retrieve the wine and two glasses. Eve followed him towards the sofa, and Q had been hoping that she would be tactful enough not to comment, he should have known better really. 

“Been getting quite a few new sofa’s recently.” She commented as she sat down with a raised eyebrow on Q’s second new sofa in the last half year. 

“It is possible that I took out some of my anger with Bond on the sofa he bought me and required a new one.” Q answered, pulling the cork out of the wine and pouring them both a generous glass. 

“Do I even want to know what you did to it?”

“I took it to an abandoned lot and set fire to it.”

“Right. A good, controlled reaction then.”

“I did not set fire to Bond or that precious fucking car of his.”

“Which I’m slightly concerned might have more to do with Bond not being back yet than it does with your intentions.” She commented, and Q took a long drink. “Not that he wouldn’t deserve it.” She added and Q knew that she was only saying it because she was his friend first and she was being supportive and all those other things that good friends do, but it made something in him curl up tightly.

“No he wouldn’t.”

“Don’t defend him, he’s being an arsehole.”

“No, he’s not!” Q hadn’t meant to shout, he couldn't even really blame it on the wine yet, but he could sense it was all about to come pouring out anyway, even without the wine kicking in. “And that’s the damn problem.”

“Q, what Bond is doing is - ”

“No Eve, we never talked about it, we never said we were exclusive. The only thing I  _ ever _ said about it was when I insisted that it was still just casual. So it’s not exactly like I can claim he cheated on me, when there was nothing to cheat on.” Q replied, hating himself a little for defending Bond even now. 

“No, you listen to me. What Bond is doing is callous and insensitive. It doesn't matter what rubbish you were saying, everyone could see it how much he meant to you. Bond is a grown man, he makes a living off being able to read people among other things, and you’re telling me he couldn’t work out that you were falling for him? Bullshit. Whatever it was at the start it wasn’t that anymore, I could see your walls falling down and you barely even told me anything about what was going on between you. Regardless of what his own feelings were, he should have had enough respect for you and yours to talk to you before taking up with Dr Swann.” She argued, a pause stretching out between them as Q did his best to process what she was saying. 

“Thanks.” He said, swallowing thickly and chasing down any tears that were threatening with a large gulp of wine.   

“It’s okay to be hurt by this. I get why you don’t want anyone at work to see it, but you don’t need to shut me out too, I’m not going to judge you for having emotions Q.”

“I know. I’m not upset. I mean, I am, obviously I am, not much point in denying that right now. But mostly I’m angry at him.”

“As you have every right to be.”

“Angry at myself too. I feel like such an idiot.”

“You really shouldn’t be, it’s not like you’d be the first to fall for him against your better judgement.” Eve replied, topping up both their glasses of wine.

“I really was foolish enough to think I was different from them. How pathetic is that.” Q snorted, throwing back some more wine as Eve frowned and nursed her own. “What?”

“Well that just it isn’t it. I was so sure you really were different. We all were. And I know you didn’t want to be office gossip but honestly we all thought Bond was head over heels for you, we were hardly not going to talk about it.”

“You’re clearly all shit spies then because you were all wrong.” 

“What if we weren’t.” Eve said, and Q was already too hazy and tired for this and gave her one of his patented Looks. It did nothing to deter her. “I mean I’m not saying you should forgive him or take him back or anything but honestly, who the fuck knows how Bond’s mind works. Maybe we were all right he’s just beyond shit at knowing what goes on in a actual adult relationship.”

“You think Bond, who is far more intelligent than any of us give him credit for, thinks it’s okay to have sex with and go gallivanting off with some other woman in the car that his not-boyfriend just spent nine months fixing up in his nonexistent free time?” Q asked in disbelief, who in their right mind would think that was okay. 

“I don't know. You two are weird. Your relationship was weird. Be done with him and no one will blame you, or talk to him and give him another chance and no one will judge you.” Eve yawned, setting Q off too, even if he thought it was utter tripe that no one would judge him, Q would judge himself if he took him back after this. Not that there was anything to take back, because he’d insisted they’d not really been together anyway. “M told me to tell you to make sure you and Bond can still work together though, he got those frowny lines in his forehead, I think he’s worried his dream team will no longer exist. Or worse, that you really will send Bond off with an unloaded gun.”

“I would never be so unprofessional. Unlike everyone else in that bloody building who seems perfectly content discussing the personal matters of their Quartermaster with each other.”

“You shouldn’t be able to talk like that after half a bottle of wine.” Eve grumbled, eyes drooping shut.

“Sorry.”

“I can’t be bothered to go home. I’m sleeping here on the nice new sofa, even if it is lumpier than the one Bond got you.”

“It’s fine.” Q grumbled, even though she was right, though it looked like she’d already passed out.

Q dragged himself off the sofa and found a blanket to toss over his friend before trudging into his bedroom, and collapsing on his bed, telling himself that he didn’t miss the feeling of Bond sleeping close against him. Q had never liked spooning anyway. 

 

It was three more days before Bond resurfaced, fresh faced and without a single trace of Dr Madeleine Swann about him. Q did a masterful job of keeping a neutral expression throughout the day. He wondered if she’d been the one to patch him up, if she’d seen him as flayed open as Q had, if he’d shared that with someone else too after all. If he really had just been the latest in a long line. Tried not to betray himself by being hurt that Bond hadn’t come to find him first, before returning officially, even though he wasn’t sure if he even wanted him to still do that.

He kept a neutral expression. 

The only good thing about Bond returning in an official capacity was that he was usually kept busy for the whole day, so Q figured if he actually left on time for once then he might be able to avoid him. If he even came looking, that was. No one commented when Q left at five o’clock on the dot for the first time in his life. He maintained it wasn’t cowardly if he just needed a few more days to collect himself. 

It was only eight when he heard a telltale clattering in the bathroom that could only mean someone was climbing through the window. Q took a deep breath and steeled himself, refusing to stop what he was doing and determinedly continuing to eat his dinner. 

“Imagine my surprise, when I went in to Q branch at five thirty to see my favourite Quartermaster, only to told that he’d already gone home. I almost died of shock.” Bond grinned as he came out into the kitchen, he was carrying a shopping bag which by the cat’s mews had some sort of food in it. Probably cat food.

Q had no idea what to say, so he settled on nothing and continued to just eat his dinner. 

“Q? Are you alright?” Bond asked, setting his bag down on the table.

“Look Bond, I’m really not in the mood for a shag so you might as well just leave and search for it elsewhere.” Q sighed, still focussing mainly on his pasta. 

“Why would I leave?” Bond said, sounding genuinely confused. “Not that a shag wouldn’t have been a welcome occurrence.” He then winked.  “Wait, did you get a new sofa? What happened to my one?” He asked, catching sight of the new one, having the gaul to sound concerned.

“Why are you here?”

“I’ve not seen you in a while? It’s hardly the first time I’ve dropped by Q are you sure you’re okay?”

“No Bond. You come over, we fuck, then you leave. That’s it. I just told you I’m not in the mood, so why are you still here?” Q challenged, looking up and staring Bond down, he didn’t deserve this. 

“Q that’s not - I mean, I don’t understand what - ”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out! And stop climbing through my fucking window! If I wanted you here I’d damn well invite you!” Q shouted, surprised by the venom in his own voice, something hurting as Bond, Bond who kills people for a living, recoiled.

“Q wait, I don’t know what happened but I’ll - ”

“Get out!” Q wasn’t sure if he’d ever shouted quite like this in his entire life, but he was finding it hard to stop now, he felt his cheeks getting wet, even if he couldn’t quite compute that he was crying as he all but chased Bond out of his front door. “And stop acting like a clueless little puppy. Engage that fucking brain of yours and maybe it won’t be such a damn mystery!”

Q slammed the door so hard he was surprised it didn’t rattle off it’s hinges.

He got himself back under control with some deep breaths and a refusal to think about what had just happened and returned to the table. Bond had left his shopping bag, Tesla and Archimedes seemed torn between getting into the bag and going to their clearly distressed friend. Q sighed, scooping up the bag, figuring there was no reason to deprive his cats of whatever expensive food Bond had bought them just because Q had been a prized moron and tripped over his own feelings. 

There was cat food in there, some sobby sounding French stuff that probably cost most people’s weekly paycheck. But there was also a box set of  _ Die Hard _ . Bond had been horrified when Q had said he’d never seen them - who knew secret agents had favourite films - and had said he wouldn’t rest until Q had seen them. And here they were. Bond really hadn’t been there for sex.

Q didn’t know what to think.  

 

It took precisely one meeting and half an hour for the atmosphere around the office to become unbearably tense the next day. Q wasn’t surprised. It had been a meeting about Spectre, just because Blofeld was out of the picture didn’t mean the organisation was felled after all. They weren’t naive enough to believe bond had managed to completely destroy such an organisation with just one hit. Not to mention how C had managed to infiltrate MI6 so completely, they needed to be more vigilant.

The heads of branches had all been there and of course so had Bond, being the agent with the most experience with Spectre, and Moneypenny as well, as M would otherwise just have to relay everything to her later. It wasn’t a small meeting, and Q knew he was being downright frosty to Bond. It was better than shouting at him, which was probably the only other reaction he was capable of right now, given that he’d just spent most of the night crying over him. Not that he would ever admit to such a thing.

Bond had constantly tried to engage him in conversation, tried to initiate their familiar old banter, even resorted to asking questions Q knew Bond knew the answer to just to try to get him to address him directly. Q stoically refused to engage, if it wasn’t relevant he would ignore it entirely, if it was he would address his response to the meeting at large and he absolutely would not look at Bond. Perhaps it was childish, churlish even, but Q figured it was better than shouting at him or bursting into tears. Or both. 

Needless to say it didn’t take long for the other people at the meeting to notice and it didn’t take them very long to disseminate the gossip to the rest of MI6 afterwards either. 

“Is this going to be a problem?” M asked, both Q and Bond still lingering, Q because he was trying to avoid Bond and Bond likely because he was trying to catch Q to talk.

“No sir.” Q replied diligently, picking up his laptop. 

“I don’t know.” Bond replied, Q could tell Bond was looking at him not M.

“I warned you that any personal relationships could not be allowed to impact your work.” M said to both of them, Q hadn’t realised that Bond had gotte that little talk as well, he wondered how it had gone. Maybe Bond had laughed. 

“There is no personal relationship to speak of any more, so there is no reason to worry. I am quite capable of being professional.” Q answered, professional didn’t mean friendly, after all. M looked like he wasn’t entirely sure what to say, he had no idea what Bond looked like because he refused to let himself even glance. “Am I excused?”

“Very well.” M sighed, probably hoping that this was a problem that would just go away for once. 

Q strode out of the meeting, adamantly refusing to look back even as he heard Bond calling after him. Eventually his arm was caught, he shrugged out of Bond’s loose grip, but did turn to face him.

“Is there something you needed double-oh-seven?” Q asked, words clipped and harsh, he’d never seen Bond look anxious before now.

“Is this about Madeleine? Q I’m sorry I swear if I’d known you - ”

“I have work to do 007.” Q said brusquely and hurried off, relieved when Bond didn’t follow. He didn't need the whole of MI6 seeing how hurt he was, and if that conversation continued there was only one place it was going to end, and that was with Q’s tears and dignity all over the shiny white floor. 

Q retreated to Q-branch where everyone seemed to have the good sense to give him a wide berth and just let him work, it was a relief, even if it did mean they were all nosing into his business again. He managed to be quite productive, work had always been an escape for him, a safe place to run to and occupy himself with when something was going on. At least it meant that he could make good on his promise to M that it wouldn’t affect his work. 

He pulled himself up from his work late in the afternoon, needing to let M know that the new decryption software wasn’t going to be ready until tomorrow at the earliest, but M was in a meeting with the secretary of defence, so Moneypenny would have to be the message bearer. He could have emailed her, but he appreciated the opportunity to stretch his legs and went off in search instead. 

But when Q went out in search she wasn’t at her desk or in M’s office and no one was entirely sure where she was, so Q accepted defeat and resolved to email her after all. Q headed down a back stairwell to get back to Q branch, it didn't get much human traffic on it, one of the quietest parts of the whole building, and Q was quite bored of the looks he was getting today, so it was the route he chose. 

“You can’t exactly blame him Bond. What was he supposed to think?” Q heard the exasperated voice of Moneypenny float down to him as he opened the door into the stairwell, she was out of sight, probably on the level directly above him. 

Q wasn’t stupid enough to assume they were talking about anyone other than him, it was a private conversation, he shouldn’t listen. He closed the door quietly behind him and listened. 

“Can’t I? Christ Eve what the hell was I supposed to think!” Bond replied, distress evident in his voice. 

“You honestly thought that he wouldn’t care if you carried on with someone else? You can’t be that blind, I don’t buy it. Q’s always telling me how clever you are.  What could have possibly made you think he’d be okay with you waltzing off with some woman and leaving him discarded by the side of the road?” Moneypenny bit back, loyal to the last. 

“I didn’t discard him! For god sake I feed his  _ cats,  _ I  _ hate  _ cats. I’m pretty sure I love him and right now he won’t even talk to me.”

“How can you claim to love him and then run off with some woman!” 

“It wasn’t like that! I didn’t know he’d mind!” Bond insisted, Q wasn’t sure what to think, he just tried to keep his breathing under control and remain unnoticed. 

“Of course he minded! How could he not! How could you - ”

“I thought it was an open relationship,” Bond interrupted. “I swear Eve I never would have if I’d known it wasn’t.”

“What the hell made you think that?”

“He’s always insisted that it was casual, I thought he’d freak out if I brought up exclusivity. I had no idea what to think. I know how we felt for each other, not that he’d have  _ ever _ let me talk to him about it. It just made me think that it was open, that we felt how we felt but it wasn’t a closed off relationship, I thought that was what he wanted I just didn’t think he wanted to talk about it. He  _ never _ wanted to talk about it. I - I didn’t realise, fuck Eve what am I going to do.”

Guilt washed over Q because he knew Bond was right. He would have never let him talk about it. If he’d ever brought it up Q would have probably shagged him and kicked him out, because that's what they did, that's what Q knew. That’s what Q did when he realised they’d been playing house, after all. 

“You clearly need to talk to him.” Moneypenny sighed, Q regretted her getting caught in the middle of this. “I don’t know how you managed to miscommunicate so thoroughly.”

“It’s really not all that surprising.” Bond laughed bitterly, Q hated that he was the source of that sound. “I mean. I don’t know him.”

“What? Of course you do.”

“I don’t. I know how he likes his eggs, and that he prefers to shower in the mornings but never has time so he does it in the evenings. I know he’s shit at cooking but better at knitting than he thinks. I know that he’ll fall asleep in his glasses but he fidgets so much that if you don’t take them off him he’ll manage to crush them while he’s sleeping. I know where he wants to be in ten years, I know that he loves his cats, I know that he hates the tube but appreciates its efficiency. I know he’s kinkier than anyone is ever going to give him credit for and I know that he burns pasta even though he insists it’s fine. I know all the little things, enough to love him, but nothing else.

“I don’t know anything that isn’t right there for you to see. And okay, maybe I’m one of two people who’s ever been let inside to see it, and that means a lot, means everything. But I don’t know him. He’s never told me anything. I don’t know anything about his family, he’s never even mentioned them, not even in passing, for all I know he could be an orphan like me or have a family of twenty he just wants to keep far away from this life. I don’t know where he comes from, I guess I’ve assumed he’s British but I’ve never asked and he’s never said. I don’t know what his childhood was like, I don’t know if he liked school because he was the best or was bored because he was too clever for it. I don’t know how he ended up here, how does one become head of Q branch at thirty for christ sake?”

There was a pregnant pause and Q knew why, Moneypenny didn’t know any of those things either. She was his best friend and she didn’t know and Q knew that for the first time, she was asking herself why. 

“I don’t even know his name.”

Another pause, because again, she didn’t know either. Q was fighting to stop himself from crying, from being crushed under the guilt that was now weighing down on him. 

“I am an open book to him, and he is a closed door. So yes, I misjudged, we miscommunicated. But what the fuck was I supposed to do when he won’t tell me anything?”

“I don’t know.” Was Moneypenny’s quiet reply, Q’s hands were shaking so badly, he needed to get away, he needed quiet to think. 

Q slipped out the door as quietly as he could manage in his state, but they likely heard him go, hopefully they wouldn’t realise that it was him, that he’d been listening. This stranger in their nest. 

Q walked through the building, ignoring three people who tried to speak to him, it was unprofessional. He went into his office in Q branch and locked the door. He never used his office, he had made the whole branch his office, a communal working space. His ‘office’ was mostly used for storage. He locked the door and pulled the blinds down, sitting down with his back to the door and head in his hands and tried to breathe.

Because they were  _ right _ .  

Bond was  _ right _ .

Bond had given him everything, he’d flayed himself open for Q to see. Q knew where he came from, knew what had happened to his parents, knew about Skyfall, knew about the boarding schools and delinquent youth and  M. He knew about  _ Blofeld _ . He knew exactly where Bond came from, knew exactly how he had gotten where he was. He knew about the PTSD, knew about the alcohol, knew about just how fragile Bond could be. He knew his name. He knew James.

Bond only knew Q.

He never thought about it, never even considered it an issue. How could it be? The only person who had known anything was M and she was gone. He had justified it to himself as being okay because nobody knew, not even his best friend. Now he realised he’d probably just hurt the two people he loved most in this world because it looked like he didn’t trust them. It looked like he didn’t trust them with his past, but he  _ did _ . He  _ did _ . 

He didn’t tell people because he was ashamed. It had nothing to do with them and everything to do with Q, with how the past only ever brought him hurt and shame so he’d never wanted to share it. But that was the problem, he’d only ever thought about it as mattering to him and no one else. But of course they cared, just like Q had cared when Eve had told him about her abusive mother one drunken evening, just like he’d cared when Bond had told him the full story about his parents. They’d trusted him enough to tell him and he had cared but never seemed to returned that trust. 

He’d been unfair. He’d been asking Bond to work on half the information and a fear of communicating, then blamed him when things had gone wrong. 

Q gave himself ten minutes to pull himself together. Ten minutes of deep breaths and dredging up the courage to be brave. Steadying his nerves Q left his office and silently thanked his staff for them all pretending there was nothing out of the ordinary with him emerging from the shuttered,  locked office. He opened up his laptop and located Bond, not in the mood to go trawling around the entire building looking for him. He was down in the training room, and thankfully it looked like he was alone. 

When Q reached the training room down in the bowels of the building he refused to let himself hesitate. Bond didn’t notice him, too wrapped up in the safety of the building and  in the bag he was punching, bare-knuckled, they looked red. 

“My mother died when I was very little. I don’t really remember anything about her and my father never talked to me about it, but I remember her being sad all the time. I later found out that it was an overdose.” Q started, Bond turned slowly to face him, looking cautious and confused if anything. “My father barely spoke to me, disinterest at it’s finest, I guess. It drove me when I was little, if I could just be the best, be the smartest, then maybe he’d be proud enough of me to take notice. So I studied and worked hard at school and it became clear pretty early that I was a genius. The word prodigy got tossed around a lot. He didn’t care. I was about twelve when I realised it was never going to matter. I’d already been offered places and scholarships at every university that mattered, could already hack the planet if I wanted, but he just didn’t  _ care _ . 

“So I did what any little kid with indifferent parents does and I rebelled. I became bitter, churlish, apathetic,  _ bored _ . My teachers tried to help but it just felt like they wanted their precious little genius back, my mind hadn’t made my father care at all and it was the only thing anyone else seemed to value in me. I got involved with some bad people, they all claim they don’t want some snot-nosed brat hanging around until they realise what you can do. I was thirteen and I could hack into anything; banks, personal accounts,  _ governments _ . I was a goldmine for the thieves, blackmailers and extortionists of the world and I knew it. I’d play groups, gangs, mobs off against each other. When I got bored of one lot I’d throw them under the bus and find someone new. I was fourteen and I was one of the most notorious criminals in Europe. 

“I- I did a lot I’m not proud of. Things that I’m still ashamed of to this day and I’m sure I always will be. And there’s more to tell you, but I won’t do it here.” Q finished, he didn’t trust any building that wasn’t his own four walls, not for the things he needed to say, the confessions he still had left.

There was a reason M had never told anyone else where he came from. 

“Why are you - you heard me and Eve talking.” 

“You should come over, later. And I’ll tell you some more.” Q said, ignoring Bond’s words and  wary of what he had screamed at Bond, that he’d invite him if he wanted him.

“Fuck Q I’m sorry you weren’t supposed to hear that. If there are things you don’t want to tell me then that’s fine, I don’t have to know. It’s not about that.”

“No, you were right. And I’m sorry.”

“I should be the one apologising.”

“We both should. But I’m sorry, for not talking, for not letting you talk. For not saying how I feel, for once.”

“And how do you feel?” Bond asked, he was teasing and it was so familiar that it sent a wave of relief crashing over Q to hear it again.

“Pretty sure I said something about not bringing that sort of thing up in the office if you wanted it to last.” Q teased back, watching the same relief wash over Bond as they returned to more comfortable ground. 

“I’ll see you later then, Q.”

“That’s not my name,” Q smiled, he’d tell him later, he knew James understood, because suddenly he was beaming at him. 

Q went back to Q branch and wrapped up his work for the day, heading home at six so he could psyche himself up before Bond got back. In all honesty he had barely scratched the surface of Q’s past with what little he felt comfortable saying at the office. It was funny though, Q had always thought it would be difficult to say, but it hadn’t been, not to Bond. To James.

He would always be Bond on missions, at the office. But maybe here, Q could start to call him James.

Q heard the quiet but telling sound of the bathroom window opening at half seven, earlier than he’d expected, but not unwelcome. James would see himself in, besides, if Q left the stove for two seconds his whole flat might burn down. He was not a culinary genius, that was for sure.  

“It’s pasta,” Q called, he’d made enough for James, had been planning to heat it up for him when he arrived, but this was better. “And if you complain that it’s burnt then I’m never cooking for you again.”

Q expected a laugh, the chuckle he’d grown so used to. He realised maybe half a second before he got hit around the back of the head and the world went dark that it wasn’t Bond behind him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! ngl what spurred me into getting back on with this was going through all my unanswered comments and answering them and finding so many of you being so lovely and gently asking if I was ever going to update this so i love you basically 
> 
> come find me on [tumblr](http://shadyanne.tumblr.com/) and poke me until i update again. I will try to have another one for you within the week! <3


	8. Chapter 8

  


Q woke up in a sparse room with a locked door, handcuffed and bound tightly to a chair, and with a splitting headache. He sighed. This was, tragically, not the first time this had ever happened to him.

Still, Q supposed he’d never failed to get out of it either, so he must have pretty good odds by now, even if he was a little rusty. He was sat at a table, his hands were cuffed together behind the chair, his legs bound with what felt like zip-ties to the chair legs and there was some rope around his middle for good measure. Thankfully whoever had taken him hadn’t felt the need to blindfold him, though they had taken his glasses so everything was more than a little blurry. 

All in all the room was perfectly escapable, the problem was not knowing what was on the other side of the door.

Q sat and waited patiently, whoever had grabbed him would likely come in, threatened him with something, explain in some melodramatic way what they wanted from him, threaten him some more, then leave for a while to let him ‘stew’; and that was always the opportune moment to escape. There were likely cameras in the room, but with his current blurred vision, he couldn’t make out how many or where. Either way, he’d have to move fast. 

God it had been a long time since he’d found himself in this situation. 

Q sat and waited, estimating about half an hour since he woke before three people finally walked in. A lean woman who was clearly in charge, and two thuggish looking figures flanking her. Standard intimidation tactics. The woman pulled up a chair opposite Q and he waited for her to speak. 

“It’s funny, I had no idea what to expect of you, but this certainly isn’t it.” She said, Q could tell she was frowning at his generally innocuous appearance. 

“It’s the cardigans.” Q responded dryly, she laughed. A pause stretched out between them, she was clearly waiting for Q to ask her something, clearly the cardigans really were working if she didn’t realise that this was hardly his first rodeo.  

“Aren’t you going to ask me who I am? Who we are, why we took you?”

“Why bother when you’re clearly just dying to tell me yourself.” Q replied, she laughed again. 

“Oh you do not disappoint.” Another pause, this one clearly just her deciding where best to start. “The  _ Nine Eyes _ program was years in the making, you know. Almost a decade. We had the best minds working on it, making it nigh-unhackable to anyone who wasn’t in that room working on it. And of course we shot anyone who might have turned against us after it was finished. I never really paid much mind to the techno-babble that came out of their mouths, I’d ask if anyone could break into the system and disable it, and they would always say no. Well, they’d say no, then someone would mutter about a cipher or somesuch that could break it before quickly promising that this cipher had been gone or lost or vanished for almost a decade now. A cipher, some secret pieces of code no one even remembered, no need to worry, I thought. 

“So you can imagine my surprise when  _ Nine Eyes _ was stopped. I’d never had much faith in Blofeld, if we are being honest, he was melodramatic and far too fixated on your James Bond for my liking, it was always going to be his downfall. Irregardless, I  _ did _ have faith in  _ Nine Eyes _ . At the end of the day, it didn’t matter to me who was in charge of Spectre so long as we got the intelligence we wanted. But then it was stopped, the program I was assured could not be hacked, was killed dead in it’s cradle, by a Quartermaster of MI6 with little more than a laptop. I was, of course, incensed by this, convinced I’d been lied to. After all, if this missing cipher had been used then I was sure it would be clear, that the program crash would have been far more dramatic and insidious, not simply shut down. I was certain that the programmers had deliberately left a weakness in the software for anyone with a laptop and computer science degree to take advantage of. I couldn’t ask the programmers alas, as most of them had already been disposed of, so instead I combed back through their reports.

“In each report they all seemed determined to cover themselves by stating that if the cipher was ever found it would be able to end  _ Nine Eyes _ , before hurriedly stating that the cipher was likely dead as it hadn’t surfaced in years. It was around the tenth report stating this very same thing that it occurred to me, really I’m slightly ashamed it took me so long to realise something so obvious. The reports were not saying,  _ a _ cipher, or  _ the _ cipher, they weren’t using an article at all. The were saying  _ Cipher _ , if Cipher resurfaced they would be able to break it, that  _ Cipher _ was likely dead. Cipher, was of course, a person. You, to be exact. 

“I didn’t take it on faith, I did my research, found out exactly who Cipher was. A notorious hacker, you caused chaos in Europe for a good while, one of Interpol’s most wanted, at one point. Never caught, practically a ghost, and one that simply vanished some ten years ago. I thought I was wrong after discovering all this, after all, how does one go from wanted by Interpol to in charge of MI6’s tech branch. I almost convinced myself I was wrong, but still, very carefully I had my people start to dig into you. Not directly of course, you would have found out, but through your friends, that old boyfriend of yours Matt, he was most helpful. And what we found was nothing, and that is how I knew it must be you. We could not even find your name, and who could keep anonymity in a cyber age like this, unless that person was the most talented hacker the world had ever seen.” She finally seemed to be done, expecting some kind of reaction no doubt, pleading from Q perhaps, outrage maybe, that she’d managed to work this all out. 

“Am I supposed to be impressed? All you’ve done is tell me an awful lot of things I already know.” Q answered, toying with the idea of yawning. 

“We know who you  _ are _ .” She emphasised, apparently that was supposed to be a threat. 

“You were told only one person in the world could hack  _ Nine Eyes, Nine Eyes _ got hacked, you realised whoever it was must have been that one person. Not hugely impressive if you ask me. And no, you’ve no idea who I am, you couldn’t even find my name, remember?” Q replied in his best bored voice, it must have pissed her off because it earned him a punch to his jaw. That was going to hurt for a few days. Q sighed and tried to shake off the pain. “Are you going to get to the point?”

“After I discovered who you were, my first reaction was to destroy you and the rest of the organisation agreed. But with some time to think, I saw potential. We didn’t need  _ Nine Eyes _ , if we had you. Everyone saw the truth of this, and now here you are.”

“Am I really going to have to give you the ‘I’ll never help you’ speech?” Q asked, thankful when it didn’t get him punched again. 

“You were a criminal, you will be again. Help us and live, refuse and die. It is that simple.” She said, Q rolled his eyes. 

Regardless of his reaction, she seemed to decide that was a suitably dramatic point to leave and her and her two thugs left the room. The door clicked shut and Q heard a lock turn. Moving as little as possible so any cameras hopefully wouldn’t notice, he shuffled back on his seat far enough for his cuffed hands to reach through the gaps in the back of the chair and hook into his belt. He felt along the inside of the fabric until he found an almost undetectable break in the material. Carefully he slipped his index finger inside and drew out his pick. 

For about two seconds Q felt rather triumphant, until he fumbled the pick and dropped it on the floor. Q let out an exasperated sigh at himself, he really was rusty at this. Q gripped his left thumb in his right hand, grit his teeth, forced himself not to hesitate, and dislocated his thumb. It said a lot about his self control and past experiences that he managed not to scream or scrunch his face in pain, all too aware of the probability of cameras locked on him right now. 

Taking a few subtle deep breaths Q carefully slipped the cuff, freeing his arms. He had to be careful how he proceeded now, if there were cameras on him then he would have to be quick, there was no way to get his legs free without them noticing if they were watching. 

For the zip-ties around his legs he would need to use his shoelaces and he was going to need to be able to see what he was doing for that. Keeping his arms low he reached into his pocket, silently praying that the movement was slight enough that they wouldn’t be able to see. Camera’s were usually placed above doors and if that held true now would hopefully mean his movement was still out of sight. 

He reached the secret compartment in his trouser pocket and found the tiny plastic case holding his contact lenses. He leant forward into his lap, using the table for some cover and making it look as though he was just hopelessly struggling against the ropes around his middle while he used his right hand to slip his contacts in. 

Q sat back up and the room came into focus, with a few enhancements. He looked the room and his contacts locked onto the security camera, by the door like he expected. His contacts scanned the camera and a message appeared on the contacts stating that they were functional. Q focused on the door and his contacts brought up two humanoid shaped lumps of glowing red outside the door, two people guarding his cell then. That was good, it made it less likely that anyone was actually watching the camera. The contacts could scan the outside hallway but no further, bringing up a plan of the hallway, the doors off of it, and which was most likely to lead to the outside. 

Admittedly, they were less contact lenses and more computers put directly into his eyes. 

Q had, of course, saved the best bit of tech for himself.

He used his now free hands to untie the ropes around his middle - thankfully bound at his back, so the movement could be mostly hidden. The next part, could not be hidden, and was relying mostly on hope that no one was actually watching the camera, and speed. 

Q quickly reached for his shoes and pulled his laced free, tying them together before threading them behind the zip-ties, before making sure they rested against the weak point at the clasp and using the laces like a chisel. The zip-ties both came free easily but it had still been a few minutes of clear movement, if anyone was on that camera, then someone was coming. 

His contacts alerted him to movement on the other side of the door, likely the guards being informed of the movement, instructed to subdue. Q plastered himself against the wall behind the door and waited for them to burst in. The door clattered open, Q deftly catching it with his hands before it could smack into him and break his nose. 

“What the fuck!” One of them grunted as Q wasn’t instantly visible. Q took a deep breath and slammed the door as hard as he could into the guard stood there, reaching around quickly, his contacts showing Q exactly where his gun was before moving around the door. He grabbed it and shot the other guard before he had even processed what had just happened, let alone had time to react. Q ignored how sick it made him feel to see the red pooling around the guard, he didn’t have time. 

Q set off down the hallway, his contacts mapping the building out as he ran, warning him about cameras and giving him time to slip into side rooms when people came chasing down the corridor. His lenses picked up on a room filled with tech further down the corridor and he agreed with their assessment that that was likely the central hub for the building. Q entered the room and pistol-whipped the guy sat in the chair, dragging him onto the floor and appropriating his headset. 

It took him approximately thirty seconds to have all the camera’s looped so they wouldn’t be able to see him running around, another half a minute to scramble the radio frequency to hamper their ability to communicate with each other and about twenty more seconds to disengage the locks on all the doors. Q located and brought up a blueprint of the building, his contacts taking in the information and quickly plotting the best way out for him. 

Q took off down the corridor again, gun clasped tightly in his hand. He really hated guns, especially ones as crude as this, but needs must. His route to the exit was mostly clear, having to hide only a few times and knock out just one more person, and thankfully, shoot no one else. 

Q could see the exit, resisting the urge to charge as he still needed to be careful and stay aware of his surroundings, though it was difficult with escape so close. He would need to steal a vehicle and get to a populated area, then contact MI6 and get himself home. He was already planning how to do this when his contacts alerted him three people on an intercept course for the door, one moving considerably faster than the other two. Guards hurriedly sent to man the exit, Q guessed. He raised his gun, prepared to get through that door even if it meant shooting three more people. 

The first person rounded the corner and Q was shocked to see the woman who had interrogated him, not a disposable heavy. He kept his gun raised, she looked far too calm. 

“Well now I really am impressed.” She hummed, too composed, too cool, she was planning something.

“I don’t much like shooting people but continue to stand between me and the exit and I will do it.”

“Now now, you’re not a double-oh, you don’t have a license to kill, and I am unarmed.” Q scoffed as she replied, it would hardly be difficult to argue this as self defence. She was stalling, Q knew that, likely waiting for the two people still approaching.

“As you so aptly stated earlier, I’m a criminal, quite a notorious one at that. So if you really think I won’t use this, I suggest you reevaluate the situation.” Q bit back, cocking the gun. 

“Oh my dear Q, you don’t want to do that.” 

“And why’s that?” 

“Because you could shoot me, and shoot Larson here and escape this building. But not before Larson has put a bullet in your precious James’ skull.” She smirked as Larson rounded the corner, dragging a bloodied James Bond with him and all the blood drained from Q’s face. 

“James,” Q gasped, gun shaking in his hand as he forced himself not to run to him. 

His lenses were scanning him. Four broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, GSW to the leg already, likely bleeding internally, broken fingers, broken foot. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t run. Even if Q found a way to get rid of Larson and the woman, they still wouldn’t be able to get far before the rest caught up with them. 

“Go Q, they’re gunna kill me anyway.” Bond begged him, as if Q ever would, as if he wasn’t already lowering his gun. 

“No they won’t, because they need you at the end of a gun if they want me to do as they say. Isn’t that right?”

“Clever boy.” The woman smiled cruelly. “We couldn’t believe our luck when he came looking for you just before we were about to leave. We knew who he was to you, what leverage he could be. He is of course, also how we knew how to get so very close to you without arousing your suspicions. We could climb straight through the window and you just assumed it was him, really we owe you a lot of thanks, Mr Bond, for making it so very easy for us to get what we want.” She laughed, a nasty sound, and Q had never seen Bond look quite so guilty. 

“Don’t put that gun down Q, leave me and just  _ go _ . Please, I’m begging you Q.” Bond pleased, but all he could hear was the rattle from his lungs. 

“He gets the medical attention he need or I don’t help you.”

“Do you really think you’re in a position to make demands?” She asked and Q raised the gun again.

“If he doesn’t get help he’s going to die anyway, in which case I might as well shoot you now and run.”

“Fine. Mr Bond will get what he needs. He is of no use to us dead, after all.” She replied, clearly agitated by Q’s refusal to just roll over and surrender. 

Satisfied, Q handed his gun over and went over to James, relieved when neither the woman nor Larson moved to stop him. 

“Don’t do anything stupid Bond.” Q murmured, wiping some of the blood and grime off of his face. “Let me get us out of this one.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Bond protested, and Q had no doubt he would currently rather be dead than have Q in their clutches. 

“And what would you have done? If our positions had been reversed?” Q asked gently. 

“They hit you.” Bond grumbled, reaching out to the large and still forming bruise on Q’s jaw.

“Considerably less than they did you. And don’t avoid the question, what would you have done?”

“The same.” Bond reluctantly admitted. 

“Then don’t tell me to leave you.” Q said, straightening up as he figured they were probably pushing their luck already. Although, if Spectre ever wanted him to work for them willingly - which was likely their absurd long term plan - then they would slowly try to get in his good graces. 

“This way.” The woman instructed, marching off down a different corridor to the one they came up, Q’s lenses - which they thankfully had not noticed - showing him they were not going back to the room he had come from. 

Larson hauled Bond up and all but dragged him along the corridor, getting only a few paces before Q stood firmly in front of him and halted him. 

“Get the fuck out the way.” He grunted. 

“Let me help him walk, I won’t have him dragged.”

“You’ll do as you’re fucking told.” Larson spat at him, Q stood his ground. 

“You push your luck, Q.” The woman said, but she motioned at Larson to let Q take Bond. 

He pulled Bond’s still in tact shoulder and arm around his own shoulders, letting Bond lean on him and take the weight off his broken foot and shot leg. 

“You‘re going to owe me a new outfit.” Q muttered as he helped Bond slowly down the corridor. 

“Same rules for bleeding on your clothes and bleeding on the upholstery then?” Bond replied, and Q had never appreciated his ability to smile despite the awfulness of the situation enough until then. 

“Something like that, yes.”

They followed the woman to a room, which Q was relieved to see was some kind of medical bay, and directed Q to help Bond into the bed.

“I’ll get us out of this.” Bond promised, as Q set him carefully in the bed. 

“You concentrate on not dying, I’ll worry about getting us out of this one.” Q told him, he already knew how they were getting out of this one, it was already in motion, really.  

“Come with me.” The woman instructed, clearly growing bored of watching Q make sure Bond was comfortable. 

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I will work in here or I won’t work at all. If I do not have constant visual confirmation that Bond is okay then I will not agree to do anything. Let me work in here, help him, and I will be docile as a lamb, which is surely what you want.” It would do wonders for Q’s peace of mind if he could stay with Bond, it would also make it easier if they were together, when the time came. 

“Fine. For now.” She grit out, Q could almost hear her grinding her teeth. Q knew why he had leverage at the moment, they couldn’t risk hurting Bond any more or he could die, and then they weren’t getting anything out of Q, which meant that right now they only leverage they had was threat of death, and they were hardly going to kill Bond over Q complaining about where he was going to work. 

It wouldn’t last though, a week at most, when Bond started to heal they would separate them, too dangerous to let them stay together when Bond regained some mobility. 

Not that Q had any intention of being here for a full week. In fact he’d be extremely pissed off and recommend everyone at MI6 is fired if they are. 

“What do you want me to do then?” Q sighed, wishing they would just get on with these things instead of making him ask. 

“A test first, a bank with supposedly impenetrable security. You will remotely disable their security and transfer a few billion to us.” She said, Q rolled his eyes, that was child’s play. “You will do it in less than an hour or we will shoot Bond and you too, as you clearly aren’t as good as everyone has claimed.” She said, trying to sound scary, as if they didn’t both already know that Q was more than capable of that. 

“Fine. Bring me a laptop. And when I’m done the first thing you do is help him.”

“Of course.”

She snapped her fingers and someone came in with a table, followed closely by a man with a chair and another with a laptop. Q cracked his knuckles, the bank would have to forgive him, he’d get their money back for them later.

Q completed the hack in less than fifty minutes, shutting the laptop and looking back at the woman. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t exhilarating, if he said that he never missed the buzz of hacking into something he wasn’t supposed to, leaving no trace and the target scrambling. But that wasn’t his life any more and he was glad of it, and any enjoyment he might have once gotten out of it was well and truly nullified by the unhealthy rattle of Bond’s breathing from the bed next to him. 

“Help. Him.” Q said firmly and the woman nodded, a couple of doctors immediately entering the room and setting to work on Bond. 

“Good. Now, if you wish for Mr Bond to continue to receive medical attention then you’re going to hack into russia’s intelligence network. Well, you’re going to hack everyone’s intelligence network and make them feedback to us, but we’re going to start with Russia”

“My Russian is rusty.”

“I am sure you will cope.”

“This isn’t like hacking a bank, it’s not going to be easy or particularly fast.”

“Naturally. But if I decide, if I even suspect that you are stalling, then Mr Bond here may start losing fingers.” She promised and Q swallowed, that was not an empty threat.   

They wouldn't be here for long. The tracer in Bond’s blood was undetectable and unremovable, which meant they had no idea it was there or Bond would be dead. It also meant that MI6 knew where they were, were likely already on their way to retrieve them, it would have been obvious when neither of them turned up for work that something had happened. 

Q just needed to keep them both alive until then.  

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and piles of love to everyone that comments <3 I have actually already written the next chapter and should write the final one tomorrow so hopefully this will be done and dusted by the weekend! 
> 
> Thank you again for all your support even though I took two ridiculous hiatus' during this fic :') <333
> 
> [tumblr](http://shadyanne.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

Day three and Q was still attempting to get into Russia’s intelligence network, he was stalling, of course, helped by the fact that his Russian genuinely was rusty. But he knew he wasn’t going to be able to carry that on for much longer. If he was only pushing his own luck he would carry on, but right now he was pushing Bond’s luck too, and that was something he was far more concerned with. 

Either way, he was going to have to get in today and apologise to Russia later, or hope they never discovered who had done it. Hopefully M would defend him if anything did get out. Hopefully. Though if his identity got out he could likely kiss his freedom goodbye, four nations in Europe still had him on their most wanted lists. 

He hadn’t done anything illegal (apart from occasional brushes with legality when assisting Bond when he shouldn’t have, but technically M wasn’t the law) in a decade. Hadn’t even fudged his taxes or dropped a single crisp packet on the floor. He didn’t even have the desire to do anything nefarious anymore, that was a part of him firmly labelled ‘misspent youth’ and kept in the past. 

He was lucky M, the old M, had seen potential in him, seen an asset instead of a threat. Well, she’d seen a scared and incredibly lost boy anyway. Almost nine years spent working exclusively for her and he had her trust, helping her bring down the gangs and mobs he had gotten his foolish self involved with. Her trust not something he was ever going to break, even if she was gone now. There were debts that couldn’t be repaid, but he knew she’d be satisfied at least, with him continuing to do good to make up for what he had done. 

Q was sure Bond wouldn’t recognise the person he was ten years ago and Q was glad for it. It was a version of himself he’d very much like to forget. So full of anger and loneliness, justifying it to himself by saying he wasn’t really the one who was hurting people, that was what the people who went in with their guns and bombs did, Q just opened the door for them, it wasn’t on his conscience what they then chose to do when they went through that door. 

Pathetic.

And he’d known it even then. 

And he might have been good at playing groups off against each other, making himself invaluable. But he’d also been in too deep, too scared to get out and no idea how to even begin going about getting out either, how do you leave that life when you’re in it? He’d always been removed from what was going on, he was just the guy at the laptop, he was usually in his pyjamas sipping on earl grey for christ sake. Needless to say it had been the shock he needed when there was a massacre right in front of him,  _ caused _ by him. And the might not have been very nice men, and he might have caused something like this before, but it was the first time he’d ever seen it.

It made him sick, the men who’d done it laughed. Clapped him on the back. Thanked him, for the info he’d collected. 

He’d run that night, run straight to M. 

Twenty years old and terrified, filled with guilt, no idea where to turn. He was lucky she hadn’t just shot him, someone turning up at your door, knowing exactly who you are when you’re the head of MI6 is rarely a good thing. But she hadn’t, ever level-headed. 

He told her who he was, the mobs and mafias and gangs he’d worked with. The things they’d done, given her enough information to put him and them away forever. The information too important, too delicate, for him to just take to the police. She‘d assumed he’d wanted something in return, immunity for his crimes, protection, that sort of thing. Q was pretty sure now that it was the very fact he didn’t ask for those things which made M decide to give them to him. 

She’d helped him reinvent himself, to leave Cipher in the past, leave all the names he’d ever had in the past. But more importantly, she’d given him a new identity and given him a job. Few people were going to question who you were or your right to be somewhere, when the head of MI6 put you there. For years Q worked solely for her, she didn’t trust him yet, and Q would have judged her if she had, but eventually, he earned her trust. When the old Quartermaster had retired, he’d thought nothing of it, just because he had M’s personal trust, didn’t mean she was going to give him a job like that, she’d be mad to do such a thing. But if there’s one thing M had always been in was a sharp judge of character, and even though she’d probably still been mad to do it, she made him Quartermaster of MI6. 

And Q had done and would continue to do everything in his power to prove that she hadn’t made a mistake.

M had been the only one at MI6 who knew his true identity, his past. She hadn’t known how agents would react and had known for sure that the stuffed suits of the government would never had allowed it, but M was never one to let them get in the way of the job, and she was certainly not one to simply give away an asset as valuable as Q. 

Q sighed to himself, it would come out, when they escaped from this place. Q would have to explain it all to M himself, better than him hearing it from someone else, and now that someone had the information, it would inevitably reach his ears. Spectre knew who he was, so M needed to know as well. That of course meant there was a chance of M apologising before handing him over to interpol, but Q supposed he’d just have to deal with that if it happened. 

Q looked over to Bond’s sleeping figure in the bed beside him. Mostly he just hoped that James would forgive him; forgive him for not telling him the truth, forgive him for the things he’d done in the past, accept him anyway. Love him anyway, even if he didn’t deserve it. 

The contacts still in his eyes told Q that Bond’s condition had improved substantially in the three days he’d been receiving care. Q knew if he wanted that to continue he’d have to give Spectre what they wanted today, or risk Bond bearing the punishment for his disobedience. 

Bond would tell him to not give them what they wanted, that he’d survive whatever they threw at him. He’d probably claim he could survive a bullet to the head given half the chance. Q was not going to give him the chance. If MI6 didn’t get to them today then Spectre was getting access to Russia’s ‘intelligence network’.

Well, they’d get access to a elaborate program that Q had worked very very hard to make it look like Russia’s intelligence network.

If they noticed, he and Bond were both dead. 

Where the fuck was MI6 anyway. What was the point of all of your friends being spies if you still ended up stuck in captivity. 

“Q,” Bond muttered groggily from the bed and Q quickly reached for his water and helped Bond drink some of it. 

“You should still be asleep.” Q clucked, fussing over Bond’s pillows because he wasn’t sure what else to be. 

They hadn’t exactly been in a  _ great _ place in their relationship when they’d wound up here. It added a good helping of ‘awkward’ onto the guilt Q was already feeling. It was, after all, his fault they were in this situation, he was the one Spectre wanted. 

Bond caught Q’s wrist in his hand, stilling his movements, “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie.” Q said, hands balling into fists in his frustration.

“Okay. I’m sorry I hurt you. I probably won’t be okay until I know we’re okay.”

“Bond you’ve got four broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a GSW to the leg, only recently staunched internal bleeding, broken fingers and a broken foot. I don’t matter right now.”

“You’re always going to matter to me Q.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true though.”

“No it isn’t.”

“But you don’t know that. It’s like you said, you don’t know because I’ve never told you anything.” Q said, angry at himself for just about everything, for right now, for the things he did in his past, for making James feel liked he’d shut him out. 

“I should never have said those things Q. I don’t care, I know you, I know I do. Everything else is just background noise.”

“It’s not though. I wish it was, but it’s why we’re here right now. It’s why you’re laid out in a bed with broken bones. It’s because of me.”

“Personally, I’m inclined to blame the people who beat the shit out of me for that. You can’t take credit for everything.” Bond tried to tease, tried to make Q feel better like he always did. 

“They wouldn’t have done that to you if they didn’t want me, if they didn’t need something over me.”

“Yeah. And they never would have been able to grab you from your flat as easily as they did if I’d ever used the front door like you asked.” Bond said, voice thick, and Q could feel the very real guilt in his words, even though none of this was his fault.

“It’s my own fault they were after me.”

“You were just doing your job by crashing  _ Nine Eyes _ . We should have realised you were in danger and protected you better. I should have done better.” Bond replied, always trying to shoulder all of the blame, all of the fault. 

“Stop. Stop trying to make me the victim here, when it’s my own fault any of this happened. If it weren’t for the things I did in the past we wouldn’t be here. It wasn’t just that I crashed the program. It made them realised who I am.”

“So you risked your own safety to do the job.”

“Would you just listen! You don’t understand who I was.”

“Maybe I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but you told me some before. You told me you were a criminal, that you did things. It doesn’t make me think less of you, Q.”   

“That’s only because you don’t know the whole story. Don’t know the things I was involved in.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I don’t need to know Q. None of it is going to make a difference to how I feel, what I know about you. We all have secrets, we all have a past we’d like to bury. So you if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

“No, I was going to anyway, at home. I want to, I need you to know or I’ll just feel like I’m lying to you.” Q explained, before taking a deep breath and telling James everything. 

He told him about the gangs, the ones he started in, how he’d use them to create some chaos then stir just enough up internally to make them implode on themselves as he moved on to the next. He’d helped mobs pull of grand theft, extortion, he’d made it possible for them to ferry drugs over borders and know the movements of their rivals. He’d worked with mafia’s and cartels and petty thieves, getting what he wanted, getting a few thrills, before moving on. When you tell an organised crime syndicate about the movements of their rivals, about what the criminal faction on the other side of the city are doing, it inevitably leads to death. Q had always known that, it shouldn’t have taken walking in on the blood and bodies to make him face the reality. He told Bond about M, about going to her, how she’d decided to give him a second chance, helped him carve out a new life for himself. How he would do his best to prove her right, even if he knew that nothing would be able to wipe his hands clean.  

There was a long pause after Q finished, feeling sure he was about to hear the man he loved tell him to get out of his sight and never come back. 

“I forgive you. I don’t think there’s much for me to forgive, but I can tell you need to hear it.” James said, reaching out for Q, Q flinching away from his touch and hating himself for it a little, though James looked as though he had expected it.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter to me Q, where you came from, who you were. All that matters is who you are now, and you’re the best person I know.”

“How can you say that?” Q asked incredulously, a little angrily. 

“We all come from bad places here. Do you really think M saw a perfectly well adjusted little orphan boy and thought to herself, yes, he’ll make an excellent trained killer. No. We all come from bad places, or we wouldn’t be able to do what we do.” 

“It’s not the same, I might not have pulled the trigger, but I as good as killed a lot of people.”

“And I actually do pull the trigger. On people no worse than the ones in your past. I’m not saying what you did was okay, but have you ever noticed how you only ever played the gangs off against each other? You could have brought down governments if you wanted to, instead you stole from thieves and had mobs wipe each other out. I’m surprised M didn’t thank you when you went to her. You come from a bad place Q, you’re not a bad person.” 

“How can you - ”

“I’m glad actually.” Bond cut him off, clearly not wanting to hear Q protest again. 

“Glad? What on earth is there to be glad about in this scenario.”

“Glad it wasn’t my fault someone I loved got kidnapped for once, glad the person I love actually knows how to survive things like this. Yeah, I’m glad.”

“But I was a criminal Bond, and not a small one. How can you just be okay with that? You can’t just blindly forgive me for that.” Q insisted, unable to believe that James really did forgive him, just like that. 

He couldn’t fathom how James could think what he did and what Q did in the past were even remotely the same. He took out threats to innocent people, killed to keep the country and the millions living in it safe, risked his own life over and over to protect others. Q had done what he did for a cheap thrill, because he was an angry, bitter child.

“There’s probably only one person in the world I’ve ever trusted half as much as I trust you, and if she decided you’re trustworthy, then you are. Whoever you were then, it’s clearly not who you are now.” Bond said, with such sincerity, with such belief that Q’s heart almost broke, that he was almost able to believe it. Almost. 

“Bond, you can’t - ”

“You know, I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve saved my life. I used to keep a tally, but the number started to get hard to keep track of. It was meant to be a joke at first, sort of, you were so fun to wind up. Your gadgets would save me - even if they were boring and lacked an exploding pen - and your intel would save me and your instructions would save me.”

“Technically I did that for every agent.” Q said, unsure how to react to what Bond was saying, especially when he was so sure he deserved none of it, given the current state Bond was in was 100% his fault, given his past, given everything. 

“Yeah, maybe, but we all knew I was your favourite.” Bond grinned, making Q snort and roll his eyes, glad for the familiar banter, if only for a moment, he was right of course. “But then your smile started saving me instead. Your bad jokes, your cardigans and ugly coats, your face when you’re trying to look annoyed instead of laugh, it made something come alive inside me that had been dead for a long time. You treated me like a person, not some mysterious, invincible and unattainable thing. You treated me like I was nothing special and it was intoxicating. I fell in love with you that first night, when you kicked me out of your bed. If I wasn’t in love with you already, anyway. I let you see me in a state no one ever had before and you put me back together with gentle hands. So yeah, your tech and your brains save my life on missions, but you just being you has been saving me from something wholly more terrifying for a long time now.” 

James squeezed Q’s hand softly and a long pause drew out between them as Q scrambled for something to say, something that would encompass the breadth of what he felt. But Q was good with numbers and code and puzzles, not words, and they ran from him now. He said the only thing he thought could even remotely convey what he felt.

“James.” Q’s voice shook. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense.” James beamed, his smile not faltering as another paused stretched out between them. 

There was something else Q needed to say.

“Myles Walker.” Q said, and James smiled at him, bringing a hand up to brush some of Q’s hair out of his face. 

“It’s nice to meet you Myles.” James said, full of love and Q couldn’t help but squirm, it didn’t feel right.

“No, wait. Let me, say something.” Q tried, James waiting patiently as Q worked out what to say. “I love you because you make me feel the furthest from Myles Walker that I ever have in my life. I didn’t tell you my name because it doesn’t feel like my name anymore, I don’t want it to be any more. Myles Walker is not me, and I don’t want him to be. And when I’m with you, I feel like I’ve finally shaken him off.”

“You love me?” James smiled, Q rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop his own smile. 

“Obviously.” 

“It’s okay Q, I love you too.” Bond grinned, shuffling a little awkwardly to one side of his bed so there was room for him to tug Q down beside him.

“Your injuries.” Q said worriedly, more than a little concerned about cuddling up to him at all, given how many broken bones he had. 

“I can promise you I feel worlds better with you here.”  

“I’ll get us out of here, I’ll find a way.” Q swore, resting his head carefully on the pillow next to James’, smiling when he felt lips brush against his brow. 

“I don’t doubt it.”

They lay together for a while and at some point Q must have dozed off, he’d always found it easy to sleep in James’ arms. 

He was eventually rudely awoken by the door to their room being blown off it’s hinges and half of MI6 pouring into the room, gun’s raised. 

“Oh for god sake.” Came the exasperated voice of Moneypenny. “We come racing after you two ready to save you from potential torture and cruel captivity and find you napping and snuggling. I don’t even know if I’m surprised.”

Q climbed out of the bed despite his desire never to move, there were things that needed to be done and he could help. 

“Is the building secure?”

“Almost, agents Tanner, Mulligan, Wesson and 004 are securing the final rooms. We came here as soon as we could to prevent anyone left being able to reach you and use you as leverage.”

“Good. Bond needs medical attention. Now. His vitals have improved in the last few days but he is still far from out of the woods. He has four broken ribs a dislocated shoulder, GSW to his right calf, broken fingers and a broken right foot. He was also recently bleeding internally and although my lenses are telling me that they did manage to stop that I hardly trust their work, so you will need to keep a close eye on him for that as well.”

“Understood.” Moneypenny said, holding her earpiece and talking to the rest of the team, requesting a gurney to move Bond. 

“Lenses?” Bond asked, and Moneypenny looked curious as well. 

“Contact lenses.”

“Something is telling me they’re not from Specsavers.” Bond laughed, trying to sit up in his bed.

“I’ve got to keep some toys for myself. I’m the only one I can trust to bring them back in one piece.” Q added with a glare, but there was no real heat in it, and James just laughed again. “I thought you were retired from the field?” Q said, eyebrow raised and looking pointedly at her unweaving gun hand. 

“Some people you come out of retirement for.” Moneypenny smiled. 

“I always knew you loved me.” Bond piped up from the bed, the grin they all knew so well weak but very much present on his exhausted face. Q and Moneypenny rolled their eyes in perfect unison. 

“A gurney and a sedative, maybe?” She joked, making the three of them laugh probably more than the joke warranted, the adrenalin of the situation they’d just escaped beginning to burn itself off. Q was the first to sober, there were things he needed to do. 

“I need to speak to M. Preferably before anyone else has a chance to. There are things he needs to know. Things you probably deserve to know as well.” Q said and Moneypenny nodded, speaking down her earpiece again and not prying.

“He’ll be ready for you as soon as we get back to base.”

“Thanks.” Q replied, the exhaustion of the past few days suddenly hitting him full force, leaving him ready to collapse where he stood. 

When the building was clear he and James were loaded onto a helicopter, not having to wait for the cars that would transport the captured members of Spectre back to MI6. Q was glad of it, his lenses might be telling him that James was not currently getting any worse, but he still wouldn’t have any peace until he was safely in the MI6 infirmary, with the best doctors they had pouring over him. 

They were in the middle of nowhere, but thankfully still in England. Q had wondered, impossible for him to be sure trapped in that building. It took them a few hours to get back to London, touching down on MI6’s helipad, four doctors rushing forward as soon as it was safe to help James. M was waiting further back, Q steeled his resolve. It would be better, coming from him.

“Right. You are going to go with these lovely doctors who want to help you, and if I find out that you’ve been a horrible patient, refused treatment or tried to leave your bed before you’re told you can then I’ll withhold sex for a year. Understood.” Q turned on James, cutting him off just before he could start to tell the doctors to leave him alone, that he was fine and just needed a paracetamol. 

“You know, you’re very sexy when you’re bossy.” James teased and Q glared at him, but let James pull him down for a surprisingly sweet kiss anyway. 

The doctors rolled James towards the lift and Q turned to M, hoping that if this went badly, he’d at least let him say goodbye to James. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you're still enjoying it <3 Just one chapter left, it will go up the day after tomorrow and with it comes the return of the smut :') 
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://shadyanne.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

 

Q turned his key in the lock of the door to his flat, almost not having the energy to physically push open the door.

“Whoa there Q, are you even awake?” James, his lovely boyfriend who just took on the Herculean task of opening the door, asked, hands coming up to brace Q’s shoulders.  

“There is a seventy perfect chance I’m about to fall into your arms because I am so tired. If you call it swooning I won’t let you join me in the shower ever again.” Q muttered, already letting himself collapse against James. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” James replied, Q could hear his smile. “You awake enough for dinner?”

“What is it?” Q asked, voice muffled against James’ shirt. He would never admit it  out loud, but they both knew James was a far better cook that him.  

“Casserole, it’ll only be a few more minutes.” James answered, his casseroles were always good. 

“I’m awake enough for casserole.” Q replied, disentangling himself from James and trudging over to the kitchen table as James returned to the stove. 

“You don’t have to work so hard you know, he’s not going to kick you out. He’s even told you to slow down himself.” James said. 

“Not yet.” Q answered around a yawn, James took on a concerned frown but didn’t push. 

He understood, Q knew he did. Mallory had been far from happy to hear about Q’s sordid past, but he had decided to respect M’s (the old M, they really needed to alternate the moniker) decision and trust her judgement. Q had since been determined to show M and the ghost of M that they still hadn’t made a mistake, and was arguably working slightly too hard in order to prove this. 

“Please don’t fall asleep in your dinner, I might take it personally.” James grinned as he set a plate down in front of Q.  

The food managed to give him just enough energy to keep him moving until he was finished, at which point he was weighing the pros and cons of just falling asleep in his rigid kitchen chair. 

“Come on, bed.” James announced, probably seeing Q’s eyes drifting shut at the table.

“I’m good here.” Q mumbled, eliciting a snort from James and finding himself swept up in his arms. Q hated (loved) it when he did that. “Put me down, I’m not a damsel. You’ll bugger your shoulder back up.”

“My shoulder has been fine for weeks.”

“Your idea of fine is different from a normal persons. And you shouldn’t put this much weight on your foot either.” Q griped, even knowing that there really was no chance of James putting him down anywhere other than the bed. He also couldn’t say he particularly minded that.

“It’s been months Q, it’s fine, I’m all fixed, even by normal people standards. Besides, you’re light as a feather.”

“I am not.” Q tried to protest, but it dissolved into a yawn, and he probably was light as a feather by James’ standards anyway. 

“There, isn’t that better?” James said, jokingly, as if he was dealing with a particularly wayward child. 

“Almost.” Q mumbled, trying to tug James down on the bed next to him but finding him an immovable object. “James.” Q growled, James probably deserved some kind of medal for not laughing at him and his attempt at a growl.

“Patience Q.” James said, before gently taking Q’s glasses and carefully placing them on the bedside table.

“Don’t baby me.” Q grumbled as Bond started unlacing Q’s shoes, even though in all honesty he quite like the attention, liked feeling pampered by James. 

“You’re always pissy if you wake up still in your clothes.” James said pointedly, eyebrow raised, and he did have a point. It always made Q feel gross and like a failure of a human being if he slept in his clothes. Besides, it wasn’t like having James Bond undress him was ever a bad thing. 

James rid him of his shoes and socks, getting Q to lift his hips so he could pull off his trousers. “Are you going to make me wrestle your shirt and cardigan off you?” James asked pointedly when Q wouldn’t sit up to help. Q shrugged and bit his lip, he would have bat his eyelashes if he’d had the energy, James laughed and shook his head, “you just like being manhandled.” And well Q thought, there wasn’t much point in denying the truth. 

“I’ll be back in a sec.” James promised, dropping a kiss on Q’s forehead before gathering up all of Q’s clothes and heading out of the room. 

Q wondered if anyone else had ever had the pleasure of knowing what James Bond putting on the washing sounded like, before smiling to himself, because he already knew he was the only one. 

When James got back he was only in his boxer briefs, which really was a sight to behold, clearly having put his own clothes in the wash with Q’s, Q made grabby hands at him. James dragged the covers down underneath Q so that he could then pull them back up over them both. Q cuddled close to James, tucking his head on James’ chest and throwing one of his legs over James’, pressing his half hard cock up against James’ hip. He could practically hear James’ eyebrows raise.

“I’m kind of intimidated by your resilience Q, thought you were far too tired to get it up.” James teased, the arm he’d wrapped around Q squeezing him tight, pressing Q tighter into his hip because James was nothing if not a flirt.

“James Bond just stripped me of my clothes, it’s a conditioned reaction by this point,” Q said around a yawn, “but no funny business, unless you want your ego irreparably bruised by me falling asleep halfway through.”

“Go to sleep Q,” Bond replied with a fond laugh, and Q didn’t need to be told twice. 

 

Q woke up feeling warm and well-rested, despite the late hour he had come home. Six hours of sleep was bountiful for Q these days, he figured it was only a matter of time until M forced him to take a day off, or abide by actual working hours for a few weeks at least. 

Q stretched languidly, there really was nothing like a good stretch, on that he and his cats saw eye to eye at least, though they were still traitors who liked James more than him. Or at least, they liked that James usually came with expensive tuna. James shifted behind him as he stretched, pulling Q back in closer, spooning up behind him, tugging Q’s back flush against his chest, and consequently his morning wood up against Q’s arse. 

Q had always loved morning sex. And evening sex. And afternoon sex. And impromptu quickies at any point during the day. 

Q would admit that at this point any and all sex with James was something he loved. 

Dissolving into another morning yawn Q lazily rubbed his arse back against James’ erection, making the sleeping agent groan and start to wake, rolling his hips against Q languidly. 

“What time is it?” James asked, kissing the nape of Q’s neck with soft lips. 

“Half six.” Q replied, not needing to look at his clock, he always woke up half an hour before his alarm, his body clock was infallible. 

“Early.” James grunted, one of his calloused hands starting to pet at Q’s chest. 

“Well if you’d rather sleep for half an hour more...” Q trailed off, teasing, letting his hips still and pull away from James. 

“Not what I said.” James said, just like Q knew he would, wrapping one big hand around Q’s hip and pulling him back against him, starting to rut up against Q’s arse with more purpose. 

Q moaned freely when a hand closed over the front of his briefs, massaging at his half-hard cock through the soft cotton while his other hand started toying with Q’s nipples. 

“How much trouble will I get in if I mark your neck up real good?” James asked between kissing and sucking at Q’s neck.

“A lot.” Q warned, though it didn’t sound particularly convincing, even to his own ears. Especially when coupled with the gasp he let out as James caught skin between his teeth and teased at it. 

“Oh yeah? You don’t sound like you mean it.” James replied, pinching at his nipple and licking over the spot he’d just had between his teeth, none of it hard enough to mark, he never would unless Q let him.

“Just keep it below the collar.” Q told him breathlessly, moaning again when James wrapped his hand around his cock through his boxers and bit down on his shoulder. 

“Too good to me.” James murmured, one hand trailing a hot path down Q’s side before hooking into Q’s briefs and pulling them down just enough to expose his arse, grabbing himself a handful and squeezing, spreading Q open and pressing his thumb at Q’s hole.

“Don’t tease.” Q whined, pressing back against James’ hand insistently. 

“Ask me nicely.” James teased, giving his arse a playful smack that left Q blushing harder than the hand around his cock did. 

“Please don’t tease me.” Q said, licking his lips. He’s considered protesting, being a bit of a brat, but they really didn’t have time for that this morning. He’d save that for another time. 

“Alright baby.” James replied, a name Q would have recoiled against in the past but that now only left him feeling warm, relaxed, loved.  

James reached back to the bedside table, pulling out the bottle of lube they kept there, before leaning back over and nudging Q to roll over to somewhere between his front and his side. James wrapped a hand around Q’s right left and hitched it up, they both liked this position in the morning, James wrapped up close behind Q, the angle letting him fuck Q deep.

“How do you want it?” James asked, Q moaning sweetly as he slipped his first finger into Q easily. 

“Don’t mind.” Q answered honestly, pushing back against James’ finger. He still felt warm and cozy from sleep, knowing having James inside him would only make him feel warmer and cozier still, regardless of how James wanted to give it to him.

“Like this then.” James said, a smile in his voice as he worked a second finger into Q, starting to scissor him open.

James prepped Q thoroughly, spending twice as long with his fingers in Q’s arse, lavishing him with attention, than he ever did with his cock inside him. Q knew that a lot of the pleasure for James was bringing it to his partner, and Q couldn’t say he minded the excessive foreplay and prep, quite the opposite in fact. He was certain it made the sex better. People who didn’t like foreplay were generally lazy in bed as far as Q was concerned. Even when he and James were having lazy morning sex, it still wasn't  _ lazy _ sex. 

“Do you want a fourth?” James asked, three fingers already deep in Q’s arse, stretching him thoroughly, knowing that Q loved it when he spent ages fingering him. Unfortunately they didn’t have ages this morning. 

“No, I’m good.” Q answered, squirming as James pulled his fingers free, only leaving Q for a moment before he felt the fat head of James’ cock pressing up against his entrance.

James dropped another kiss on Q’s shoulder before gently pushing in in one long smooth slide, both of them moaning as James’ hips came flush against Q. 

“Good?” James asked, as if it was even a question at this point in their relationship that James felt good. That had been ruled out as a question on the very first night.

“Very.” Q sighed blissfully, knowing that James liked to hear it, liked to hear how much Q was enjoying it. Knowing that had made it a lot easier for Q to let go and be as noisy as he wanted. 

James fucked him slowly, pressing deep inside, grinding against Q’s prostate on each push and building up a sensual rhythm that pushed Q towards the edge just as surely as when James pounded him through the mattress (or the wall, or the shower, or the table, or anywhere really).   

“ _ James _ ,” Q moaned, rocking his hips back into James’ every movement, whimpering as James’ fingers continued their assault his nipples. 

“I’ve got you.” James whispered into his neck, thrusting his hips just that little big harder and faster than before, but still going at quite a slow pace for them both, in some ways slow wound them both up faster.

They stayed like that for a while, both of them enjoying the sensation, James rocking into Q at a steady pace spooned up against him. The intimacy of the position something that would have terrified Q not that long ago. James worked them both up steadily, giving a low and throaty laugh whenever Q would roll his hips back instantly, his body trying to get a faster pace, even if every other part of him loved it like this. 

Eventually James reached around, taking Q’s leaking cock in his hand and stroking him a few times, alternating between stroking him, squeezing the head and massagging his balls, all the while pressing his cock against his sweet spot. It didn’t take long before Q was ready to come, it never did with James.

Q let out a broken moan, dissolving into a sigh as he came in James’ hand, eyelids fluttering as his eyes rolled back, James fucking him through every tremor before coming deep inside Q with a sated groan of his own. 

They lay there tangled together for as long as they could, James’ cock softening inside Q as they both came down from their high. Q whined when the alarm went off and James carefully pulled out from inside him, rolling Q over and kissing him soundly before telling him not to move and leaving the bed. Ever the gentleman James came back with a warm cloth and cleaned Q up, something which had endlessly embarrassed him at first, before he realised it was something that James genuinely enjoyed doing. 

James brought Q his morning tea in bed, which made leaving said bed much easier. They both grabbed a quick shower and ate breakfast before feeding the cats and heading out to work, ending up pressed together like sardines as Q insisted they take the tube not the car. They didn’t mind. 

Work was the same as it always had been, they went their separate ways at the door, Q heading down to his branch and James down to the training rooms to practice his aim (not that he needed to) and whatever else it was the field agents did down there (Q had never dared to ask). 

“See you later Q,” James smiled at him as they parted at the entrance, Q already deep in his tablet reading through his morning emails. 

“Of course Bond,” Q replied, heading down the stairs, he would always be Bond at the office, something James seemed to find endlessly amusing. 

“You’re cheerful this morning,” Moneypenny greeted, falling into step beside him. “Though you’re cheerful most mornings now. Regular sex really has done wonders for your morning moods.”

“Good morning Moneypenny.” Q replied, ignoring her usual invasion into his sex life, she smiled at him.

“Still on for lunch?” She asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Q smiled sincerely, waving her off as she headed off to the lower floor while Q continued to down to Q branch.

Her reaction to his past had been similar to James’, but with added mock-outrage that he had never shared his past life of crime with her. She’d also mentioned that she’s literally shot James once, if that made him feel any better. It hadn’t, but it also sort of had. It was a complicated emotion, what matter was that James was okay and Q hadn’t been fired or lost his best friend or boyfriend. He’d lucked out, really.

Q emerged himself in the work he left late last night, an enhanced earpiece, better range, harder to lose - you’d be amazed how many missions went awry because earpieces had fallen out during some wild chase. 

Q was eventually pulled out of his work by M’s voice. “Q.” Q looked up and immediately wondered how long M had been stood there without him noticing, he did tend to enter his own world when he was in the flow.

“Yes M?”

“You didn’t leave until nine last night.”

“Sir?”

“The day ends at five thirty.”

“There was plenty for me to do.”

“Q,” M sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead, as if he was a tired teacher dealing with an extremely overzealous toddler. “You don’t need to work yourself into the ground. I made my decision, you stay, I trust you. You have nothing to prove and I would prefer you didn’t drop dead from overworking yourself. From now on avoid working much past half five unless it really is urgent.” M said pointedly.     

“Yes sir. Thank you.” Q said, M rolling his eyes, no doubt quite sick of Q thanking him by now.

James appeared in Q branch just before half five, snooping around the tech as he always did and Q suppressing his smile like he always did when James started to fiddle.

“Put that down Bond before you knock yourself out.”

“Oh, sounds fun, what does it do?”

“Emits a high frequency, highly directed sound wave, designed to incapacitate an enemy.”

“Now  _ that’s  _ more like it. Much better than a radio.” James exclaimed, looking like a small child in a sweet shop and still not putting the dangerous piece of weaponry down. Q let out an exasperated sigh.

“That radio has saved you no less than seven times since we met.” Q pointed out with a raised eyebrow, James just grinned at him. “Can I help you Bond?”

“Yes, I am under strict orders from the boss to make sure you leave on time today, and as you know I have  _ always _ been a model of following orders, so here I am.” James grinned wider, coming around to his desk and perching on it.

“Five minutes.” Q replied, shutting down his computers. “Oh, I made you a present. It was meant to be for your birthday but a million things came up.” Q apologised, rooting through his draw until he found the box with a little red bow around it. 

“What is it?” James asked.

“Open it and find out.” Q suggested dryly.

“It’s a pen?”  James said, picking it up out of the case.

“Very observant.”

“A very nice pen Q, but I must admit I don’t really write that many letters.”

“Bond.”

“Yes?”

“It explodes.”

“I  _ love  _ you.”

“Understandable.” Q smiled, he loved him too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it all the way to the end I love you and I am SO SORRY about the two massive hiatus' this fic decided to take.
> 
> Your comments have meant the whole world to me and I hope you enjoyed this last chapter and that the ride was worth it <3
> 
> [tumblr](http://shadyanne.tumblr.com/)


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